Some people believe that old flames never completely die out.  My late maternal grandmother would always say, “Donde habia fuego, cenizas quedan.  Where there was fire, ashes remain.”  Could this be true? What is it about reconnecting with a childhood boyfriend or girlfriend that gives a spark to that once crackling, bright, vibrant flame?

It was a late Saturday afternoon.  I had spent the day cleaning my entire house.  I was exhausted.  The house smelled of cleaning products.  Clorox, Ajax, PineSol, and Mr. Clean.   I was a mess.  My hair was in a pony tail that had loosen with my movements.  The radio was on playing all of my favorites from Rock to R&B to Salsa and Merengue.  An occasional Spanish Rock, Jazz and even a Gospel song would be heard. Lord knows I needed to stay inspired. As I was finishing up cleaning the last part I had left, I received a notification on my phone letting me know that I had a message waiting to be read on my Facebook messenger.  So, of course I did what anyone else would do, I stopped what I was doing, removed my cleaning gloves and accessed my messenger.  I didn’t recognize the name on the messenger but the picture next to the name was recognizable.  I began to wonder.  “Hum mm?” I thought.  “Is this who I think it is?”  I paused for about a minute and then proceeded to open the message.  It went something like this.   “Hi is this…….? This is……remember me? We dated back in High School.  If this is not who I think it is then please accept my apology. However, if it is you please write back I would love to reconnect with you and catch up.  It’s been a really long time.”  and he added his complete name.   His name! His name was the most beautiful name I have ever heard. His name was the most beautiful name I have ever written besides mine of course.  After reading his message, time seized that very instant.  My heart began to strike my chest as if it was trapped in a dark cell and was pleading its release.  Maybe there was some truth in my grandmother’s statement.  All that surrounded me had seized.  The air that my lungs consumed without a fee tasted different like Mango dipped in Chocolate.  It was no longer forced and easily expanded my chest with no boundaries, with no fear because it was soft and harmless as it once was a long time ago, around him.  The air recaptured the smelled of New York City.  Full of smog and pollution mixed with candy hearts; Be Mine, Kiss Me, Hug Me, All Mine and how can I forget the famous, I Love You.  I found that even, in the harsh city winter, fresh luminous flowers were always in bloom when we were together.

“What should I say? Should I even right back?” I asked myself out loud.  “Well, I think you should and quick!” I said to myself out loud again.  I never took lightly to peer pressure so, I put the phone down and walked away.  I put my cleaning gloves back on and continued right where I left off however, my mind did not.  It was still on the message.  Recapping every single word.  Analyzing every letter as if there laid the hidden answer to solving world hunger.  “Stop thinking about it!” I told myself, but I couldn’t help it.  After a good thirty minutes of self-yelling and self-torture I responded.  It went something like this. “Hi! Yes, this is…. I do remember you.  How are you?”  I paused again.  “Hit send.  Hit send!” I told myself.  Why was I afraid to send the message?  Why was I hesitating?  Oh, I think I know.  I feared what would happen next.  We would engage in this long chat and then I would learn that he is happily married to a beautiful accomplished woman.  I would also learn that they have a mini basketball team of perfectly accomplished artsy city kids.   “Oh, stop it and just hit send!” I told myself and so, I did it.  I hit send.  I proceeded to cleaning and my mind proceeded to remembering him.  His touch was like a warm summer wind that moved slowly and softly down my spine as we walked through Central Park.  Memories continued rushing in one after the other and some at the same time. They fought each other to see which one would come through first.  Wow it was him.  It was who I wanted it to be, messaging me.  He was “him” for me back in high school.  The guy!  I was head over heels for; this boy.  He gave breath to my lungs, chills on my skin, life to my lips, color to my cheeks and a swing to my hips.  Yes, I even walked different when he was around (smiling as I write this).  I remember lying to my mother and telling her that I was going to meet my girlfriends and walk around and it was to see him.  We would meet at the corner of 207th Street and Broadway and we would walk to Inwood Park.  I would exaggerate the swing of my hips just like Debbie Reynolds dancing with Gene Kelly in the “You were Meant for Me” scene in the Classic “Singing in the Rain.”  Oh, his dark almond-shaped eyes would suck me into another dimension.  His shy look always intrigued me and made the pit of my belly perform back flips as if it were in a gymnastic competition.  Yes, he was “him” for me back in high school.  He had me reading Shakespeare, Hemingway, Dickens, Yeats, Austen, Wells, Faulkner, Tolstoy, Poe etc.  I somehow managed to incorporate my feelings in these great writer’s work.  I pictured him reciting Brown Penny by William Butler Yates just for me.  I remember I wrote poetry just for him.  Rose are red violets are blue I think I am falling in love with you (Blushing and chuckling as I write this).  We had very few classes together in fact I don’t remember having a class with him at all but, it sure felt like we did because he was always on my mind.  When we saw, each other passing in between classes in the school hallway of John F Kennedy High School located in the Bronx, I felt as if we were the only ones in the building.  See, being with him made me believe that the world was flat despite what the great explores had discovered.  It stood strong on a point and because the universe felt that we were made for each other, it would tilt at the precise moment to always lead us together.  Could this be the universe tilting again? Or are we Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth considering a second chance at love after years apart like in Jane Austen’s last book “Persuasion”?

“Clinging!” My messenger alert announced that there was a message waiting for me.  I quickly pulled the cleaning gloves off my hands and picked up my phone.  It read something like this.  “I am doing good.” Man, he’s so smooth. I thought.   “How have you been? I have asked a few people for you and they said you moved out of the city.  Where do you live?”  Oh, boy he has been asking about me.  Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! (while doing the Oh yeah silly dance).  Yes, he was “him” for me back in high school.  When he stared at me it felt as if I was being seen for the first time.  When he smiled at me there was nothing in the world that could keep my feet on the ground.  I felt as if I was dancing in the rain like Gene Kelly once did with no care in the world.  His shy look and his lip’s gentle curl upward at the corner of his mouth, gave me the sweetest acknowledgement that…. Oh, man he was “him” back in high school.  The color of his skin ignited my appetite and warmed my body like when you drank hot coco on a winter day.  The heat would rush down my throat and to my chest making it hard to breath.  It would crash in my belly but, when our eyes met and he held my hand, oh, that heat would extend the trip to my lady parts and…. Wow! He was “him” for me back in high school.  He remembers me and askes for me and now we are engaging in a conversation.

“Donde habia fuego, cenizas quedan.  Where there was fire, ashes remain.”  Maybe this is true and the reason why is because we get to feel alive again and 16 yrs old again. Even if it’s for that brief chat or…. I guess this is how it started all over again.

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