Five years old (or should I
say, “Five years young?) is very early for such a clear memory. The experience must have had quite an impact
upon me to remember it so well. The visual
aspect was powerful enough not to forget, but the excited feeling in my stomach
is what really affected me.
I was five, he was six. He lived just two houses over from my
home. To my regret, he and his family
did not stay there very long. I have no
idea where he went after they moved.
I recall one spring evening
when I tagged along with my older brother to my neighbors' home. We didn't actually play. There were five of us there, and we simply
sat on the grass and chatted about whatever children of that age talk
about. That I don't remember, for it is
what I saw that captured and held my attention.
A traditional belief is that
children that age are not sexual, whatever is meant by that term “sexual.” Sexual or not, I do know that, from a very
early age, I have had an unusually heightened sense of the aesthetic. And, at the age of five, that came into play,
big-time.
The first thing that struck me
(and, the word “struck” certainly denotes the impact that I felt) was the
extraordinary beauty of his face. The
aristocratic, finely sculpted features - - high cheek-bones, arched eyebrows,
narrow, straight nose, ideal line of the jaw and chin, and perfectly shaped
lips worthy of a Cupid. I was
mesmerized. As often appears to be the
case with the young, his warm-colored skin was flawless, and his richly colored
locks had avoided the shears and were allowed to flow downward toward his
eyes. Those shining clear eyes had a
demure expression, not the more intense, self-confident look of the other boys
around him. The others around him? I barely remember them, almost as though they
already sat in the shadows of approaching dusk.
As the others talked among
themselves, he sat quietly, his long, lithe limbs side-saddle in the
grass. I was not used to seeing boys sit
that way. He seemed preoccupied with his
own thoughts. Only occasionally did he
speak, and then in very soft tones.
Those few moments of speech were music to my ears.
The full impact of this vision
raised strange and powerful emotions within me.
I felt “butterflies” in my stomach, an adrenaline rush that was a whole
new experience for me. It is that
shivering excitement that I felt which amazed me at the time and was so
indelibly imprinted upon my memory.
That remarkable moment
awakened in me a powerful passion for beauty in the human form that has stayed
with me my whole life. It has inspired
in me the desire to express that passion through many forms of artistic
endeavor - - music, art, and writing, as I am doing now. It often has dominated my feelings, perhaps
even plagued my thinking. I often feel
like Gustav von Aschenbach in “Death in Venice,” overwhelmed by bitter-sweet
sensations each time I encounter beauty in human form.
Now that I am decades older
than that first experience at age five, even a generation older than von Aschenbach,
I sense no evidence that I shall change.
Like Gustav, I shall be mesmerized by beauty to the very end of my days.
© 14 July 2015
About
the Author
I have had a life-long fascination with people
and their life stories. I also realize
that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too
have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have
derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my
stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.
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