He Gave Me a Ring...

Not every girl gets an engagement ring at the age of 5, but I did. He lived at the corner of our street. He had dark hair and eyes and dimples galore. He could do tricks on his bike and, being that I was 5,  I was easily impressed.

He would ride up and down the hill all day and shout "Watch THIS Tammy!" and then he would pop a wheelie or spin around super fast, or slam on his breaks without flipping over the handlebars! I thought he was the most awesome thing ever.
One day at the bus stop, he sheepishly reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring with one red stone and one mint green stone still cocooned inside the bubble it came in when it dropped out of the gum-ball machine. "This is for you!" he said. "Does it fit"?

It did fit because it was a ring whose size you could alter by squeezing the sides of it together. I put it on and beamed and he said "That's for when we get married someday."

That was the first time I fell for a line from a boy. That was the first time I believed that everything boys said to me was true. I was certain I would grow up and marry him. After all, I had a ring.