Our eyes met from across the small craft table; it was love at first sight. His dark brown eyes and my light blues locked. He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat. And then he asked the question that would change my world forever, “Do you want to borrow my scissors?”

My second-grade days were definitely brighter because of Matthew Johnson. He was always smiling, especially when he saw me. My teacher quickly told me it would probably be best if I didn’t spend so much time with Matthew during recess and on the playground. “You should stay with your own kind.” My own kind? I clearly didn’t understand what Mrs. Miller was implying. It’s true that Matthew’s eyes were brown and mine were blue, but it didn’t matter. He was my very best friend, and we were inseparable.

The long-awaited day finally arrived for Matthew to visit my house after school. We walked hand in hand to the front door, where Mom greeted us with a smile, chocolate chip cookies, and cold milk. I knew she would like my friend Matthew, and she most certainly did, just as I presumed. Mom had a way of making young people feel comfortable and welcome. Matthew chatted with her in his amicable way.

Suddenly, our happy conversation was interrupted by a loud pounding on the front door. An angry man stood on the porch, screaming, “That n—-r doesn’t belong in this neighborhood!” The commotion petrified Matthew, and he ran out the door, past the red-faced man, and down the street. I started to cry. This would be my first experience with racism and hatred – but certainly not my last.

Sadly, my world changed a little bit that day. My innocence and belief that everyone was the same were tarnished. The ugly truth had been revealed in that moment, and I began to see that not everyone viewed things the way I did.

Matthew’s happy smile faded, and Mrs. Miller moved me to another part of the classroom where I was seated with my own kind. Second-grade days weren’t so bright anymore.