Saturday, November 22, 2008

A Bobwhite's First Crush

In my 13th summer I got to be the "bring along companion" of my Bobwhite Only Child friend for two months in Boothbay Harbor, Maine. Each day we bicycled to our very own cove, spent hours rowing about in the Magdalena Hagdalena, dove off  rock embankments into the briny ocean and let the sun bake our skin dry. We pedaled back to our cottage along an old tar road enveloped by the tallest pine trees with blueberry bushes growing along the edges in time to dress ourselves for dinner at Fisherman's Wharf. Each night we sat at the same window table and ordered our favorite meals, and each night the same cute busboy who cleared our plates visited my dreams with romantic kisses. My first crush on a boy! As the summer came to an end I still had only managed a shy smile. I didn't even know his name.

Home. I just could not stop thinking about the blond haired, blue eyed, lanky tan busboy; so I wrote a letter and put it in an envelope inside of an envelope, and sent it to the restaurant. On the inside envelope I wrote, "Please give this to the busboy who is kinda tall and has blond hair and really blue eyes and is really cute." In the letter itself I poured out my adoration as only a teenage girl can..." I like swimming, and tennis, and bike riding, and I love the Osmonds...." No return letter.

School begins, no letter. Leaves begin to fall, and finally a letter comes. "Hello, I got your letter. I thought you were a really cute girl. Very tan. I didn't write sooner because I've been getting settled in at my dorm. I drove my new motorcycle here. Hey you are a really special girl, but my girlfriend says I can't write to you. Well, I gotta go now and hit the books... Always, your busboy, Dan ......"

 A Bobwhite's first crush, a heart ache so sweetly remembered.

Story Update: 2017 As is the case with me, I am late to the world made oh so small through the wonder of Facebook. I couldn't imagine what I would ever use Facebook for until the thought occurred to me I might just be able to discover whatever had become of "my busboy".  Dan ..., Boothbay Harbor, Maine. Easily enough found, but how to know if it was truly him. Scrolling through each group of pictures shared I came to the very last picture, a motorcycle! The very one he had worked all summer to buy before heading off to college. A message sent,  "Were you ever a busboy at Fisherman's Wharf , do you remember a 13-year old pen pal?" I went on to thank him for my wonderful girlhood memories, and how happy I was to see it seems as though his life was a good one. Months passed by, a message for me to read. "Hello! Yes I am your busboy. So nice of you to remember me."