Ginger Ail
There it stood, my tower of epic preschool proportion. Thirty-seven smudged and stained wooden blocks, carefully assembled to account for the different shapes and sizes Mrs. Munoz had. It was my all-time record, and I my smile was reflecting how happy I was. As I lay the final triangle piece to the top, my heart screams with satisfaction. The excitement and wonder of being a block tower builder was all I ever needed. At least when I was 3.
When I was 3, I never expected for her to come ruining my very dream in a split second. Bridgette Garcia; fair skinned girl, a month older than me (according to her birthday on the giant namecard she and everyone else was required to fill out and wear,) she was small too. everything about Bridgette was small, her nose, mouth, teeth, ears, the earrings on her ears, her rainbow backpack — everything. Well, everything but her eyes. Her soft brown hazel eyes were huge, and when she was dazed by something, she’d stare at it for a long time, and water would start to form. How’d I know this? Because she was amazed with my tower and ogling it across the room. She was so amazed with it, she decided to put down the plastic cup she was holding to mold her playdough and dusted her knees off as she rose to her feet. Bridgette frkn Garcia.
KERPLOOOOSHH! and as my tower exploded everywhere into the room, I got the wind knocked of me from this redheaded creature. She looked up and hugged me tight and smacked her Hi-C stained lips against my cheek.
“I like your tower,” she said frantically as she squished my ribcage together. “I liked it too.. thanks a lot.”And tears formed as I hugged her back for the automatic comforting feeling of an embrace.
I’ve never made a tower that high ever again. Bridgette Garcia, the girl who broke my heart with a hug.
#truestory
