I remember her name so well, her light skin tone and curled medium length hair that reminded me of a beautiful stallion’s mane flowing in the breeze. The last days of 3rd grade I stared upon Briana Cooke’s face. So beautiful to me, cooties didn’t seem to affect me every time I hugged her. Yet it was all so weird, having feelings for a girl. All of the guys would certainly disown me from the crew for wanting her. She was so astonishing to me, her fairy lie voice and petite body. She and I have been in the same class since kindergarten. I’ll never forget during nap time, her and this boy were in the bean bag chair together. No one knows what happened; I watched them go into the chair as if it were a Venus fly trap engulfing its prey. The teacher and aide walked over toward them as I watched from afar. Their steps became heavy with anger. Visions of a yellow monstrosity grasping upon two little twigs that had wrapped around one another and began to bloom too soon. Actions that should be reserved for the ones of an older age, Lips that touched, cheeks that became the color of bright red roses Briana in the arms of another boy. The stupidity of cooties didn’t exist for us, we just saw a beautiful girl that we both wanted. He moved faster than I did. I always was the shy one. I still am till this day, approaching a beautiful girl isn’t hard, but confessing to her that she is beautiful and that you want a chance to just make her smile is harder.
So I’ll fumble around with words and stumble through the silly motions of trying to become her friend and then something more. The fear of cooties took over my childish mind and then it all falls to pieces. Simplistic elementary love, cooties, hugs, and holding hands, we weren’t meant to find love so we created diseases to prevent us from discovering what it really was. Afraid of one another and afraid to find out what touch was to each other we created. Cooties, this was our escape from finding out what we weren’t ready for yet.