Oh those golden eyes. The only thing I could ever think about was her, the beautiful and perfect possessor of those mystical eyes. I did not understand why the other boys made fun of her. Well I did know, I just could not fathom how they did. She had a speech impediment but I did not mind it. Her light brown hair flowed gracefully down her back like a flowing stream of milk chocolate. In the seven years I had been on this wild, rambunctious world I had never seen anyone so perfect. As I looked around the brightly colored classroom I had looked at for what seemed like forever, I thought of ways to get her to notice me.  I could give her my apple at lunch. I could also invite her to play on the swings later. As my thoughts wandered off, the teacher said in her gentle, mellifluous voice, “Okay children, it is time to go outside.” As the class filed out the door, I spotted my golden eyed girl. The other children divided themselves around the tricycles, the play-set, the slide, and other various activities. Through all the hustle and bustle I saw the other boys in the class, gathered around in a circle. I could not tell what was happening so when I approached the group my face drained of color and I gasped in horror. The boys were around my golden eyed girl. Those boys were taunting that little golden eyed girl. I thought about what might happen if I went up and tried to defend her by breaking the boys up. I would be taunted and bullied for the rest of the year. But nothing brought out that terrible feeling of misery more than the thought of doing nothing. I quickly pushed through the boys and grabbed the golden eyed girl. I ran with her hand in mine. I ran all the way down to the fence on the border of the playground, the one we were forbidden from passing. My heart felt as if it were beating as fast as the wings of a bee. Partly from nerves and excitement but also from running as fast and as far as we ran. I sat her down and inspected her to see if she was injured but as my scanning, worried eyes came in contact with her’s, I knew I had made the right choice.
  “So Grandpa, that’s how you met Grandma?” asked little Benny. “That’s correct. I made that one decision, and haven’t regretted it one day since.” I looked down at the boy, curled up on the sofa, smiling ear-to-ear, his big eyes staring up at me. Oh those golden eyes.