It is amazing to me how rethinking old memories with today's mind creates new memories. I began to see things in a new light and re-frame what happened so many years ago or to see not what I thought happened but what did happened. I was so sure of what I was seeing with my teenaged eyes that I miss some important clues that I did pick up with my senior eyes. It was not as I thought but different. Everything is still back in those bubbles of time but not the way I thought they were.
I can see now that the professor was far more angry at women than I suspected after the love of his life dumped him. I could also see that he did not include me in the women he went through and that he did throw passes at me but stepped back from going through with them. He did like me but as I suspected I was not the type he wanted to punish His mother also saw me as a threat to her meal ticket. I see that now from all of the statements she made to him that I overheard.
I am working to heal the wound that was inflicted so many years ago. The wound was not as bad as I thought. Again, I went on with my life that was longer than it would have been if he had been a bit of a cad which he was not. He knew I had a crush on him. He could have taken advantage of that but didn't. I saw him looking at me. Things went on the way it was best for me and I can't say the best for him as I have no idea what his life was like after me.
In conversations with other women, we often talk about our first loves. I am not different than many of the friends I have exchanged stories with. I did not grow old with someone that I loved. I envy women who were able to do this. Love stories are rare, so rare that songs and books are written to describe them when they happen in real life. My aunt who lived to be over a hundred lived with a man she loved for over 5o years. It was a wonderful love story. Another aunt had a similar love story with her husband. It happens but did not with me. My mother lived with an horrid man who almost killed her on several occasions and was cruel to his children too. I had a close friend who died during the time I knew the professor. She was killed by her husband who almost killed their child. He used to beat her before that night in Arizona when he finally completed the job.
Life has showed me many things and it has been a mixture. The story of my first real love is typical in many ways as it was full of sad and happy events. Then the participants went on to different things. I found the chapter of this memory and read it again dusting off the incident and looking at it in a new light. It did not change what happened, far from it; but it did give new meaning to something that happened so many years ago and affected me so greatly.
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