I am 11 years old and my only love in the world is Sara.
She is everything to me.
I know how many times she has smiled in the past 3 years. I learned to write her name before mine. Her favorite snack is apple slices. Her favorite color is pink. But not a bright pink. More of a soft pink that looks like it belongs on a flower in the alps.
I am clearly a very romantic 11 year old.
And since I am a romantic... and since any great romantic takes inspiration from the romantic classics… Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty… I have managed so far to very romantically not give her any idea at all of how I feel about her.
But I will!
She will find out in the most extravagant and impressive way possible! She will make this discovery, and be swept away on a tide of emotion, and I will kiss her! I don’t really know how this will work logistically yet because I cover my eyes whenever the kissing happens in all the classics… but I’ll figure it out.
But I must wait. So I do.
I wait until the perfect opportunity presents itself for me to reveal my heart’s desire; International “Woman’s Day.” So as any romantic 11 year old would, I grabbed my mom and we went to purchase the perfect present for Sara.
Clothes? I don’t know her size.
Toys? She is already eleven years old! Think with your brain, Lorenzo!
But The Lady at The Store does not know what I mean when I say that Sara smells like an angel, or heaven, or spring. The Lady at The Store has clearly never been in love. Therefore, with no other choice but choice itself, I choose not to choose, and I leave the store with a box of five different scents in one. That way Sara can smell a different kind of beautiful every day!
Does my juvenile thoughtfulness know no bounds?
The next day I stand up in the middle of the class, and I turn toward Sara holding the much deliberated box of fragrances open in my two shaking hands.
I will recite no poem.
I have written no script.
I will go by heart.
As I start to walk to her, I notice the twinkle of surprise and curiosity in her eyes. I notice how she smiles as I take my first steps. I notice how the air shimmers around her as she brushes her hair back behind her ear and watches me walk. What I do not notice is Francesca’s backpack in front of me.
So I trip over it... and I fall… and I throw all five of those crystal bottles up into the air, and watch them shatter like dreams on the ground where they lie broken glittering, and and stinking in thousands of perfumed pieces splayed out across the classroom floor.
I cannot blame them.
The teacher laughed a little too.
That hurt more... but again I cannot blame her.
The floor would smell of those perfumes for weeks.
Like a pre-teen jungle awash in the fragrance of my failure.
I did not laugh then... and I cannot be blamed for not laughing.
But I do now, and now that I have, I never won’t.
CLIO Awards, SHORTLIST, category: Brand Design 2018. “Red Pages”
CLIO Awards, BRONZE, category: health 2017. " The Silent Translator"
INDIGO Award, GOLD, category: Student Illustration. "Rhapsody in Blue"
INDIGO Award, GOLD, category: Student Digital Design. "Rhapsody in Blue"
INDIGO Award, SILVER, category: Student Illustration. "Yojimbo"
INDIGO Award, SILVER, category: Student Digital Design. "Yojimbo"
Creative Quarterly, Shortlisted. "Yojimbo"
GRAPHIS, MERIT, category: Student Advertising. "The Silent Translator"
GRAPHIS, MERIT, category: Student Illustration. "Rhapsody in Blue"