💌 143: A Note in the Locker That Never Faded
Some memories stay tucked away in our hearts, just like old notes in a high school locker. This one is about my first love, a secret code, and how something as simple as “143” still brings a smile to my face after all these years.
I remember back in the day, before cell phones, when my first love in high school used to leave me little notes in my locker. On the front of each one was written “1 4 3.” It meant I love you. One letter in “I,” four in “love,” and three in “you.” ❤️
Soon our notes turned into secret number codes that only we could understand. We would send each other messages like “1 4 3 7 3 4,” which meant I love you forever and ever. We spent hours trying to figure out what they meant, as they got longer and longer, laughing when we got them wrong and smiling when we got them right. I wish I had saved those notes, but they are long gone now, living only in my memories.
All these years later, I still keep in touch with him, my first love. He lives in Phoenix, and even though we don’t see each other, every once in a while he sends me a message. Sometimes it’s just “143.” It makes me smile instantly and takes me back to that innocent time, to our youth, to our love.
I have known him almost my whole life. Our parents went to high school together in a small town west of Phoenix. My parents were young, only sixteen and eighteen when I was born. When I was four, my mom moved us to Tucson, and I didn’t see my dad again until I was about ten.
When I was fourteen, I went to live with my grandparents, my father’s parents, in that same small town where my parents had gone to school. It was there that I started high school, and that is where I met him. Eric.
He was tall, six feet, and I was barely five foot two. I fell completely in love. He had brown hair and blue eyes, and to me, he seemed like a giant. He was a junior, I was a freshman, and we were as cute together as you can imagine.
The first time I went to his house to meet his parents, something strange happened. As soon as I walked in, everything felt so familiar. The house, the people, even the way it smelled, all of it felt like something I had experienced before. I laughed and said, “It’s so weird, I feel like I have been here before.”
Later that evening, his mom asked where I lived. I told her that I lived a few blocks up on Central Avenue with my grandparents. She asked for my last name, and when I told her, she suddenly looked surprised and said, “Oh my goodness, is your dad’s name Louie?”
I said yes and asked how she knew. She smiled and said, “We all went to school together. You HAVE been here before! You and Eric used to play together all the time when you were toddlers.”
Eric and I just looked at each other, both shocked. Then his mom brought out a photo album, and there we were, two little kids sitting together, playing on the floor. Fifteen years later, there we were again, sitting together on the couch, this time as teenagers in love.
Of course, like most first loves, it didn’t last forever. But I am grateful that after all these years, we are still part of each other’s lives. I probably talk to his mom more than I talk to him, but it makes me happy that Facebook keeps us connected.
He is married now and has children and grandchildren. He went into the military, served in the Gulf War, came home, battled cancer, and almost lost his life. Through everything that life brought, we stayed friends.
Every now and then, when I see “143” pop up on my phone, I smile. It takes me right back to that high school hallway, to that note in my locker, and to a time when love was simple and pure.
Some memories never fade, and some first loves never really go away. ❤️
