Jack of Harts

I grew up with Caroline Murphy. Sort of. She was younger than me, so I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about her. Or being with her for that matter. She was simply the younger sister, always hanging around at Family functions or practicing on the field when I was out. She was part of the junior varsity cheerleading team, so I definitely saw her on a regular basis. I even remember rumors that she had a thing for me, but a year’s difference in age is an eternity to a teenager, and my mind was ever on her older sister. It was all or nothing with her, and to my teenage hormones, Caroline was nothing. Such is the infinite wisdom of youth. There are times I wish I could go back and kick some sense into my younger self. Though I was so hard headed back then that I’d probably break my foot if I tried. The point is, I remember Caroline. And the more I remember, the more I wonder what could have been had I the eyes to see.

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