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  • We were young and yearning for adventure. He with silky blond hair and freckles and I with my blue eyes and impish grin made a cute pair. We lived in Madison Wisconsin at the time and the world was ours to be had. Off we walked on that damp, cloudy and gray March day towards the unknown. When love is the driving force time eludes you and the world around you stops for a pause. We had found a play ground far from home and talked and pushed one another on the swings. Laughter suddenly turned into tears as my mittens got caught on the metal suspension of the swing. Neither of us could figure out how to free me from the swing so we stood there like two four year olds and waited while holding hands. I wanted my mother to find me and to rescue me but I didn't want the time with Marky to end. Our adventure was after all very intimate and all ours. At some later time, how long I can't remember, our mothers found us. The gasped as they told us how far we had wandered and informed us that we had crossed the belt line highway in Madison.

    Eventually my family moved out of town and we lost touch.

    Thirteen years later his mother came to visit. Marky had died at age 12 after a head injury from a sledding accident. I never knew, we just never knew about this. He was full of adventure and goodness. He died trying to show his sister the hill was safe, so he went down it first.

    It was his adventurous kind soul I fell in love with way back when I was four. Who would have thought that possible at age four? I often wonder what if? What if his life and our love had not been so ephemeral?
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