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the second love of my life. i was eight, he was ten. his name was matthew. he was tall. blonde hair, blue eyes. he lived on a farm on the outskirts of springfield, il. i knew him for the four years i lived there in the “city” of springfield. his voice was deeper than most men, i think he hit puberty when he was seven, and if i remember correctly, he might have had facial hair. at least in my memory he did, he was perfect.

on my birthday he took me on his horse. the horse’s name was sam. it was the first time i rode one, i loved horses more than anything. they were the first thing i taught myself to draw- majestic, strong, and beautiful. i remember that riding on that horse hurt immensly, but matt had his skinny arms around me, and they felt so safe, so i pretended like i was fine. he rode up to this little barn at the end of his land, he got off the horse and helped me off. we walked up the ladder and sat on the roof of the barn, in the hay, looking at the sky. we talked about god, horses and creeks. he loved creeks. he and my brother would take their sling shots and kill squirrels. if one of them got hurt they would run to me so that i could fix them. i wanted to marry him. i would have too, if he would’ve taken me.

his dad died when he was eleven. i saw him cry. which in turn made me cry. but he was so strong, he never once was embarrassed that he cried. he never let that turn him into something else. most guys close up, he never did.

the older he got, the taller he got. the lower his voice got. the last time i saw him, i was eighteen, he was married, and his voice was LOW. i didn’t love him anymore, but i do know, that if i had to choose the best date of my life, it would have been my birthday- when he took me on his horse, and talked to me like i was his friend, like he cared.

“i’m afraid of heights, matt.”
“if you’re gonna fall, i’ll catch you.”

i almost jumped out of the barn to see if he would. but i knew i didn’t have to, he was the only guy i’ve ever trusted.