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Beautiful boy

He was a beautiful boy.

It wasn’t for trying. He just was. Luminous inside and out. A nonchalant elegant beauty. And as such, it was no big deal until others made it so.

That’s when the trouble started.

The soft curls, full lips and wonderful smile were managed, tweaked and analyzed. It was ongoing relentless and fast; very fast. And then, he was gone. Swallowed up.

We played together as children, spent innumerable weekends in silent obedience by our respective parents during Sunday house calls and shared our snacks and secrets as best friends do.

For hours upon hours we vigorously pumped all over the neighborhood, and eventually beyond, on our bikes. Later, we snuck adult magazines to our tree house to examine and discuss what all the fuss was about, until one day we started to notice things about each other and stopped.

We studied together, dangled off swings, sat on curbs and talked and talked and talked.

And as is the way of the world…time passed.

Others obviously began to notice his beauty while he had, till then, remained pretty much oblivious.

He was eventually convinced and was whisked off and away overflowing with youthful astonishment, confusion and excitement. How could he resist? It was like discovering you had a super power.

The beauty on the page was glossy and sensational and his chameleon like quality made him highly requested.

A whirlwind of years ensued. I saw him once in a while and in the beginning could still find my old friend in the easy smile and sweet demeanor when alone together.

Once that became impossible, we let go. He swirling and twirling in the cyclone of heady reckless volatility that had now become his life, while I remained anchored in the relative safety of the harbor.

Photo by cottonbro studio

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