Love was in the air on April 11. Local writers came up with creative stories about first love for a writing contest co-sponsored by Fremont Cultural Arts Council (FCAC) along with Fremont Creates, Half Price Books, Infinity Care LLC, Fremont Area Writers and Nothing Bundt Cakes.
Connie Chew, FCAC president, said, “It was fun to read the many stories about first love. It was indeed hard to decide which entry I liked the best. Thanks to all who participated.”
Al Minard, FCAC board member and organizer of the contest, said, “The contest was a great success. We had 621 individual votes cast for 36 entries…The first-place winner and the fifth-place winner had only 11 votes difference in their vote count. The quality of the writing for this contest has improved every year, and it makes for a lot of fun reading.”
Margaret Thornberry and Julie Gilson selected the story “The First Time I Chose Myself,” by Archana Rao for the President Emeriti Award. Thornberry said, “I thought it was a wonderful evocation of the reality of the discovery, possibly more common to women than men, given the caregiver roles assigned to us by our culture, that if we give too much, we not only will wind up exhausted and unable to give anymore… That saying ‘no’ is sometimes the most loving thing we can do.”
Gilson added, “While I enjoyed the many light-hearted entries I gravitated to those which were more serious. I think both Margaret Thornberry, my fellow emeritus and I appreciated the author’s recognition that while a first may be a last love, last loves are the ones that endure.”
Rao won a Nothing Bundt Cakes Trio.
The first place was awarded to “First Love, True Love” by Richard Lau. Second place went to “The Color of Almost” by Vibha Vyas. Third place went to “Last Love” by Stephanie Uchida [Ed. note: Uchida is Tri-City Voice’s assignment editor] and the fourth place (tie) went to “Circle of Love” by Patricia Van Den Heuvel and “Daughter” by Sarah Jensen.
A special prize was awarded to Mrinmayee Haricharan, a second grader, for her story “The Tree and the Animals” recognizing her commitment and enthusiasm towards writing and participating in the event.
Visitors who came to Half Price Books that day and voted for the stories expressed their enjoyment about the event. Mrinmayee Haricharan, the youngest writer who took part in the contest, visited Half Price Books and said, “It was really fun for me to write a story for the first time. The people there were very nice and I felt happy when they said they liked my story. Thank you for awarding me a lovely book.”
Visit fremontculturalartscouncil.org for more events.
First Love, True Love
By Richard Lau
First Love is a wading pool
With shallow depth to easily fool.
True Love is a deep, vast ocean
You don’t mind drowning in.
First Love is a hand to hold;
True Love’s grasp never grows old.
First Love is a smile unearned;
True Love frowns with concern.
First Love is something to adore.
True Love is First Love and much more.
My First Love, a fond memory,
My True Love, here beside me.
The Color of Almost
By Vibha Vyas
The first time I loved him, the sky was unfinished. We lay on the hood of his car, watching clouds hesitate between gold and violet-a watercolor that refused to dry. He said sunsets were proof that endings could still be beautiful. I didn’t tell him I was terrified of beautiful things ending.
He traced constellations on my wrist, inventing names for stars. “This one’s you,” he whispered. “Bright, but still deciding where to burn.”
We never said the word love. It lived in the static between radio stations and the way he looked at me like a riddle he was close to solving. The night before he left, the sky finally chose: a deep, bruising blue. No more hesitation.
“I’ll come back,” he said. But first loves don’t always lie; they just mistake a moment for a map. I still watch the horizon, waiting for the colors to get stuck again.
Last love
By Stephanie Uchida
What’s so great about first love? Why are those feelings supposedly the best when we’re the stupidest? I definitely squandered my first love, if I even had one.
As a college freshman, I fell for Daniel. He wasn’t just cute, he was nice, even to me. I always looked forward to hanging out. Only, it didn’t happen much because Daniel was friends with everybody. Then he met a girl who made his eyes light up, and he had all the time in the world for her. Nice isn’t enough.
With Tyler, we were both crazy about each other. Every minute we weren’t together felt like a waste of time. But with the highs came lows, fights about the stupidest things. I was terrified of losing true love, but the standards were so high I was constantly disappointing. In the end, I was the one who broke it off. It was the last thing he couldn’t forgive me for.
Oh, yes. There was one where I didn’t know if we were dating or just friends until he said he loved me. I didn’t notice, but I could have. I wish I had been more careful with his heart.
Now it’s Jack. When did I fall for him? On our first date when he couldn’t stop talking? Our first kiss? When he proposed?
We’ve been crushing, then dating, then building a life together. It never mattered that we both loved before. And he got the improved version of me.
Don’t remember your first love and feel sad you’ll never have it again. You’re not the same person. Because love changes you. You can’t have your first love forever, but every time you fall in love—with someone new or the same person all over again—it will be the first time.
Circle of Love
By Patricia Van Den Heuvel
In a world full of heartbeats, none beating for me That one special person seemed elusive to me A gap in my life, a gulf in my soul Despondent, alone, I accepted my role
I learned to convince and lie to myself I could thrive on my own, didn’t need anyone Intruding, encroaching, usurping my space Protected behind my impervious gate
Then out of the haze of faces and heartbeats a beautiful soul emerged from the dusk. An outstretched hand, a beckon to join him To savor his world of adventure.
I accepted his challenge, reached for his hand, Cautiously tasted the fruits that he offered I allowed him to enter the iron gate To intrude in my world, usurp my space
A lifetime has passed since that random encounter When a circle of love was mapped in our plan
We have weathered life’s storms, we have basked in the sunshine We have clung to the rim of our circle
Now it’s I who invites him to reach for my hand
To join me in more of what life has to offer
To rejoice in our children as they view their horizons. The circle is now complete.
Circle/
Daughter
Sarah Jensen
“But whyyyyyyyy????????” Gabi whines.
“You know the rule. No dating until college,” I say, stacking clean plates in the cabinet.
“Why’s that a rule, though? It’s not like I’m a kid anymore,” she says.
I close the cabinet, ignoring the fact that thirteen is barely older than twelve or that teenagers are, legally speaking, children too (We’ve had those arguments before. It doesn’t work). “There are more important things to focus on. How’s that history grade?”
Gabi rolls her eyes at me. “History’s fine, Mom. You know grades don’t change that fast.”
“I’m hearing two different things.”
“Ughhhhhh!!!” Gabi storms off. “You’re the WORST!” I hear before her door slams shut.
I exhale. I knew the teenage years would be hard, but was I ever like this?
I think back. The no-teenage-dating rule was my parents’, so I’d learned to sneak around. Faking after-school club events. Climbing out windows at night. But then he’d started to pressure me into things I didn’t want to do, and suddenly secrecy became isolation.
God, I’d have loved someone to turn to back then.
So when Gabi comes back out for dinner – past 8pm, as an act of defiance – I sit down with her. “I’ve given it some thought,” I say. “The no-dating-at-all thing is a little extreme.”
My daughter eyes me with nervous hope.
“There will be rules, and I’ll explain whatever you need me to. But I want to meet them, and I want to supervise at first, and we’ll need to set a curfew–“
“But you’ll let me date?” Gabi interrupts eagerly.
“…yyyyyes.”
Joy crests over her face, and once again she’s my baby girl, and as much as she’s falling for boys right now, I’m reminded that she loved me first.
Tree and the Animals
By Mrinmayee Haricharan
Once upon a time, there was a sapling in the Amazon rainforest. One day, a toucan found the sapling and told all his friends like his friend tiger and his friend deer and his friend monkey.
The toucan and his friends took care of the tree by making sure that humans did not chop down the sapling. After a long time, the sapling grew tall. After a few months, the tree became the tallest tree in the Amazon rainforest and gave shelter to the animals.
But one day, there was a forest fire, and the animals needed shelter, and so they went on a high part of the tree, and the tree did not even fall.
The animals were so happy that they made up a song about the tree, and it went like this:
Thank you tree, thank you tree
Thank you for helping us in the forest fire.
This is the end of this story. Mommy and Daddy are my first love, but nature is also my first love, so that is why I wrote this story.
The First Time I Chose Myself
By Archana Rao
For many years, I believed love meant showing up for everyone else.
Being dependable. Being patient. Keeping things together, even when it felt hard. I rarely questioned it. That’s just what you do when people rely on you—you keep going, you adjust, you make it work.
Somewhere along the way, I got used to putting myself last.
Not because anyone asked me to, but because it felt easier than disappointing someone or creating conflict. I told myself this was strength. This was responsibility. This was love.
Then one day, something small happened.
Nothing dramatic. No arguments. No big turning point anyone else would notice. Just a quiet moment when I realized I was tired—not physically, but emotionally—from always saying yes when something inside me was asking for space.
So I tried something different.
I said no.
My voice was calm, but my heart was racing. I remember sitting alone afterward, wondering if I had done the wrong thing. I kept waiting for things to fall apart.
But they didn’t.
Instead, there was an unexpected sense of relief. A steadiness I hadn’t felt before. Not excitement, not pride—just peace.
That was the first time I understood something important.
Choosing yourself isn’t selfish. Sometimes, it’s the most honest form of love.
And once I learned that, I carried it with me—quietly, confidently, and without apology.
