At the age of thirteen I really didn't know the real meaning of love. I thought love was dreaming about of your Prince Charming with blond hair, thin and handsome; dreaming of spending the rest of your life, just with that "special one."

           When I started grade eight, I "fell in love." I was thirteen and he was twelve. Age wasn't an issue. It just didn't matter to us. The only thing that matter was that we were "in love" and nobody could ever take that precious thing form us. We spend a lot of time together, talking and sharing our problems and feelings and it was the best part in a life that any teenager could want. Most of our classmates made fun of us because of our age. They couldn't understand that love doesn't have an age. Our parents didn't know about us -- we kept it a secret from them.

           I liked many guys during my youth but they never returned my feelings. Then, for the first time, my dream came true. I found "The Perfect One -- Prince Charming": Alex. Brown eyes and brown hair and very handsome. The only things that I had taken in consideration since I was younger were looks , not insides. With months passing by with Alex always by my side, I realize that the looks don't matter at all. It's what's inside that counts.

           In a year, being with Alex was like magic. I never thought that my Prince Charming would be different from what I thought he would be when I was a little girl. Alex gave me the strength to carry on in my everyday life and I thank him for that. I realized that love is more than looks or the affection people have for you. Love is something really special. Alex and I spend a great year together. Sometimes, during week-long trips away, I was sad because I couldn't be with him.

           In June, school was almost over. It was the last time I could see or could touch Alex before the summer. We didn't know if it was the last time we were going to see each other. In September, I would take off to be in grade nine.

           On the day of my graduation, for the first time we kissed. For thirteen years I waited for somebody to kiss me and I am glad it was him. A short, sweet, French kiss. I could never imagine what it would be like kissing Alex. Perfect. The kiss was something I will never forget. Since then, I always have the feeling that I am going to marry him.

           But I need to work hard to make another dream come true.



© 2000 Jennifer Stanley, all rights reserved
 appears here by permission