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I remember the way the light touched her hair．She turned her head, and our eyes met, a momentary awareness in that noisy fifth grade classroom．I felt as though I’d been stuck a blow under the heart．Thus began my first love affair．
Her name was Rachel, and I mooned my way through the grade and high school, stricken at the mere sight of her, tongue-tied in her presence．Does anyone, anymore, wander in the shadows of evening, drawn by the pale light of a window-her window-like some unlucky summer insect?
Her beauty made me awkward(笨拙的)and my voice crack(沙哑)is like some impossible dream now．I would catch sight of her, walking down an aisle of trees to or from, and I’d be-come a fool．She always seemed so charming．
At home, I’d relive each meeting between us, suffering at the thought of my shortcoming．We eventually got to know as we entered our adolescence, she knew I had a case on her, and I sensed her emotional tolerance for me．“Going steady” implied a maturity we still lacked．Her Orthodox Jewish upbringing and my own Catholic belief made even kissing a distant prospect(前景)，however strongly desired．
At any rate, my love for Rachel remained without result．We graduated from high school, she went on to college, and I joined the Army．When World War II broke out, l was sent overseas．For a time we wrote, and her letters were the highlight of those terrible endless years．
I mentioned the possibility of marriage in my nest letter, and almost immediately her replies became less frequent, less personal．Her Dear John letter finally caught up with me while I was awaiting discharge．She gently explained the impossibility of a marriage between us．
Looking back on it, I must have recovered rather quickly, although for the first few months I believed I didn’t want to live．Like Rachel, I found someone else, whom I learned to love with a deep and permanent commitment that has lasted to this day．
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