In the fall of 1970, a shy sophomore boy met a shy freshman girl, and what began as a simple attraction quickly blossomed into a love that would color his world.
It was the fall of 1970, and I was a sophomore, still a skinny, awkward kid trying to bulk up in my friend's basement gym. I was lifting weights, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, hoping to look like a badass. Anne, my high school sweetheart, was a freshman at the time. I noticed her across the room, visiting my friend’s sister, and it wasn’t long before I was struck by her presence. She was shy, a little quiet, but there was something about her—something that immediately grabbed my attention. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that her well-developed figure was the first thing I noticed, but as we started talking, I realized she was so much more than that.
I got her phone number, and the next day, we spoke for hours. I can still remember the sound of her soft voice, hesitant but warm, as we opened up to each other. Both of us were shy, unsure of ourselves, but somehow the conversation flowed, and I found myself drawn to her in ways I hadn’t expected.
At one point, while we were talking, the song Color My World by Chicago came on the radio. The soft, romantic melody seemed to mirror the fluttering in my chest. Without thinking, I blurted out that the song reminded me of her—that she colored my world. I was a little embarrassed by how sappy it sounded, but the words were true. She had a way of making everything feel more vivid, more alive.
Our first date was low-key, just the two of us in my basement. I had fixed it up, laid a blanket on the floor, and put on some romantic music—the Lettermen crooning softly in the background. I remember feeling excited, my heart racing at the thought of what might happen next—maybe we’d hold hands, maybe more, but honestly, the nervous anticipation was enough.
There we were, two shy kids, lying there in the quiet of the basement, wrapped in the glow of our first love. We were still figuring ourselves out, unsure of where we were heading, but for that moment, it didn’t matter. The world felt like it was just us, our hearts beating in sync with the music.
First loves, they say, are the most exciting, and ours was no exception. But like most first loves, it eventually faded. We grew up, changed, and went our separate ways. Yet, even now, years later, the memory of those quiet nights together, the music, the conversation, and the soft glow of her smile still lingers.
The memories may have faded some, Anne did color my world, even if for only a little while.