November 12: Playground Love

Everyone loves a good trampoline, right? I'm not talking about those miniature trampolines for toddlers. I'm talking about the fourteen footers; the big ones. The bounce pads that are commonly good for flips, aerials, and broken necks. I'm talking about the trampolines that are used for one year at most before they sit in the sun abandoned to rot and fall apart. Everyone loves a good trampoline, right?

The first day of the third grade introduced me to the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had a big, bright smile and long, blond hair. She had an infectious laugh and a sunny disposition that made you forget about all of your worries. I was absolutely mesmerized by her beauty and as the years went by, she only became more and more stunning.

Unfortunately, I never grew the balls to actually talk to her and really get to know her. I don't know if this was because she found out I liked her which turned into the whole school knowing my secret, but the only way I could get her attention was to be the class clown and watch out of the corner of my eye to see if she laughed at my antics. Her friends teased me about liking her. My friends teased me for liking her. It was miserable.

One year in grade school, I somehow worked up the nerve to invite her to my Alf-themed bowling birthday party. This, of course, included absolutely no talking on my part. All I had to do was arrive to class a bit early and place an addressed invitation on her desk. Because I wanted her to show up so badly, I also invited one of her best friends; who just happened to be the crush of one of my good friends. I thought the only way my love would show up was if her friend attended which would mean my friend would attend. Cunning, don't you think?

You know mothers. My mom was the organizer of the party which meant she received the phone call from my crush's mother only to find herself having a merry old time by talking about playground love. This new friendship resulted in my crush's attendance at my party and an invitation to her Easter party. The latter, I'm sure was the mother's doing, but I attended anyway.

Although we had attended each other's parties, I still could not work up the nerve to have a real conversation with her. As much as it irritated my teachers, I continued my comedy shtick in attempts to get her to like me for the remainder of our elementary school years.

It was at the end of the final year that a rather wealthy classmate threw an extravagant pool party to celebrate graduating the fifth grade. He invited what seemed to be the entire class, which of course included my love and myself. Kids were encouraged to bring their brothers and sisters to enjoy the festivities and even their parents would be welcomed guests.

The party was great. Everyone was there. There was music, swimming, pizza, and so much more. I can still see the group of fifth grade graduates bouncing on the trampoline. I can still picture her bouncing to the edge of the ring and hopping down to go play with her friends. I can still hear the always-odd, younger brother of a friend from my class making a remark about her being his. I don't remember, however, if I was joking or legitimately upset, but I do remember using both of my arms to push him off of the trampoline and watching the blood pour from his mouth.

The party was one of those many moments for me that I look back on and hate myself for acting the way I did. Everyone was having a great time until I had to ruin it. Suffice it to say, I didn't win over her heart that day. The only thing I accomplished was embarrassing my mother for bringing the troublemaker and forcing her to leave the party in a state of humiliation. I have no idea what that poor kid is up to these days, but I can guarantee you he thinks of me every time he sees a trampoline. Everyone loves a good trampoline, right?