first love

Two young lovers sitting on the train, holding hands with legs intertwined. Talking, laughing, looking each other meaningfully in the eyes. Holding a conversation that is completely self contained; no one else exists in the entire world except for them.

She laughs and he smiles in return. He talks and she listens with interest. She tells him he is "weird" and giggles, and he nods in agreement. He bobs his head and silently thinks 'yes, honey, you are so right. I'm weird, but so in love with you'. Weird love.

I watch them with envy. I try not to stare but I can't help it. The boy and girl are only kids, perhaps 16 or 17 years of age. They kiss and kiss and stroke hands and rub their heads together. First loves. In love.

She gets off the train before him, and as she leaves, she says over and over again: "I love you." And he says "I love you" with special emphasis. They kiss and kiss and rub heads and she gets off the train, looking back towards him as she walks down the platform.

I want to shake them, tell them that this will never last. I want to say that reality will set in. I want to explain to the boy and girl that they will go on to college, a place where they will break each other's hearts and become inconsolable with the misery of it all. They will become weak and frail of heart until they start the journey all over again with a new partner, a new someone special, a new person to fill the void. I want to tell them all these things, give them my words and wisdom. Words and wisdom they would never listen to, shouldn't listen to, could never listen to.

First love doesn't last. This is what I want to tell them. First love never lasts.

But isn't it nice to believe otherwise?