My First Romance

A story about first love and how it marks the rest of a woman's life.

 

        My First Romance

 

      When I was no more than six years old, I met my first true love. With the exception of my daddy, grandpa and of course Santa. Most folks wouldn’t consider it love but I did. And I loved him ‘till the day he died.

       I come from a very large family. My mom’s folks were from the hills of Kentucky and believed the more kids you have the more blessed a person is. My granny and grandpa were very, very blessed. Mother was the oldest of 10 children and as such she was also the second mother to the brood. They were always coming over, much to my daddy’s dismay!

      It’s an old “hillbilly” tradition that when kinfolk come to visit they stay at your home. Even if there isn’t really enough room, they stay anyway. Many a hot summers' night I remember sleeping side by side with my cousins on the living room floor. It was crowded and Cousin Ida May snored. (It seems that she had some sort of throat condition and we were not allowed to mention it!) But I would eventually fall to sleep from pure exhaustion.

      Now, I guess that the hill-folk never heard of the phrase, “Over staying your welcome”. These people rarely left ‘till after the school year started. And there was this one-year in particular, they wouldn’t leave at all!

      Aunt Allean came to visit without uncle Earl. Although she brought all 6 of her kids, with one more in the oven and the family pig. (Whom, by the way we roasted for Thanksgiving that year, ugh, the pig, not the baby!) The year was 1963 and we lived in the tiny township of Comstock, Michigan. Although it was a farming community, the hillbilly ways of my aunt and my cousins were a constant embarrassment to me. Yet in this environment a true love managed to blossom.

     One cool autumn night just as I was drifting off to sleep a kitty cat crawled near me. As it brushed by I noticed that he was cold and wet. I giggled at the prospect of having a kitty of my own, and beckoned the poor wet thing to me. To warm itself under my thick, secure blankets. At the time I didn’t give a thought to where he had come from. I was just delighted that out of all of the people on the floor he chose me to cuddle with.

      Night after night this darling animal would come to me after everyone was asleep and cuddle and purr with me till early morn. I was so very happy that I had someone to pay attention and care for me. Since my mom’s family had been there we were treated like workers on one of Mr. Ford’s automobile assembly lines. Standing in line to use the bathroom, to be fed to do just about anything there was always this darn line to stand in. I grew to hate waking up in the mornings.

      I spent most of the day thinking of the loving soothing purrs of my true love. The only one in the world who really loved me. I was so grateful that this little darling was in my life. In my child’s mind thought that maybe one day, like in the fairy tales, he would turn into a handsome prince so that we might marry, and live HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

     On this one cold, dark, December night he crawled into my sleeping spot on the floor. We cuddled most of the night and finely he sang me to sleep with a soft, sweet, purring little, lullaby.

 

       Early the next morning I awoke with the darling little kitty still asleep on my chest under the thick warm blankets. I giggled to know that he felt as safe and secure with me as I did with him.

       A light was turned on. It was my daddy getting ready for work. In a soft tone, so as not to awake my sleeping prince I spoke. My daddy turned as he heard me whisper, “G’mornin’”.

      With a frightened squeak in his voice daddy said, “Don’t move!”

      He then reached for a loose brick on the fireplace, picked it up, kicked my sleeping companion to the floor and smashed his head with the brick.

     “Daddy, daddy you killed my little prince! Why did you do that? He’s my darling and I love him!”

     “Maggie!” shouted my father, “It was a rat a dirty old muskrat!”

     By this time the entire household was awake. As my father scraped what was left of my little friend off of the floor I stood alone crying. The rest of the kids, my cousins, my brothers and sisters started laughing at me for crying over the death of a rat.

      My poor little heart was broken. I didn’t have anyone to console me, as if there could be any consolation after what had happened. I cried and cried and cried!

     Daddy tried to make me feel better by making a muff out of the fur for me. But I found that to be cold comfort. I loved that dear little animal and could never fill the void his death had left in my heart with his hide to warm my hands in.

    All of these many years later, I smile and I think of my darling one. He was my first true love and I shall never forget our time together and the tragic way love sometimes must end.

    Although, in remembering these things I have come realize that they do give a perspective on my adult life. Explaining clearly why my first husband was a RAT. And why I chose my wonderful second husband, who is very hairy and purrs when I scratch his chest. Now, we live here in lovely Pasco, Washington, "HAPPILY EVER AFTER."

 

                         An original story by: Margaret Barton-Wahl

      

Reviews

[JohnL]

Great story. I understand this one - even the twist as Kitty's true identity is discovered. I have often been fascinated by tales of Kentucky and of hillbilly life, and the music is wonderful and truly native to the area. A story well told that taught me a whole lot more about some facets of American life that interest me even though it's a part of the USA to which I've never been. Beautifully snd atmospherically written.
John

[Stephanie]

I believe that animals just know what type of person you are and they react to you in their own way to let you know that they like you or not. I believe that you should always trust in an animal or a childs intuition.

[FuMiko]

Touching and tragic, something I hope you read over (upon finishing) and nodded with, not contentment, but pride.
Loved it!