Summer Love

“Maria! MARIA!! Come hea’… come hea’.” A little boy shouts, with a concerned look on his face at who is apparently his girlfriend. He’s no more than 10, 12 years old. One foot on his scooter, is wearing an adult size snap-back, backwards. His head is so small, that the snap of the hat is on its last button. The apparent girlfriend is walking away slowly like if on a graduation procession, but with no particular destination. She’s no more than 12 years old herself and is wearing disturbingly tiny shorts, her hair up in a bun. It is clear she’s upset. The girlfriend she is walking with responds for her, “She don’t want to talk to you! She don’t want to you… DAMN!” The boy gets on his scooter and begins to propel it as if he’s circling the wagons, never taking his eyes off her and mumbling, “Aight’, aight’, aight’…” As I witnessed this, a memory hit me like a warm summer breeze. I got my heart broken on that same particular spot when I was around the same age. Her name was Jennifer and she was this gorgeous little Boricua from 116th street. And 24, 25 years later, I come across the same exact spot and some other little boy is getting his heart stomped on… He’ll never forget it. Ahhh, summer love…