whatever happened to the way things used to be?
by amnesiac
(Person, 1343 views) - 7/28/03
(recorded 7/28/03 @ 9:08:48 PM)
It was my third grade year that you came knocking on my door with our older and much weirder neighbor. She introduced you because you were much too shy to do so yourself. You were new to the neighborhood, two years younger than me, and eager to make friends. We must have gotten along right away because I don’t remember disliking you for a second. Your mom asked me to baby-sit you and your siblings that year. Every Wednesday after school we’d walk home together. Your sister would beg us to play “figures” with her and eventually we would give in because that was the only way to get her to stop whining. That brother of yours was a trip. He had a bit of a temper that once resulted in him locking you and I out of the house. It was a bitter fight over a Pepsi; I completely understand his anger. The scent of freshly microwaved popcorn permeated every corner of your house, except for when your family put in wood floors and for weeks after that it smelled like burnt popcorn instead. It was with you that I learned the true meaning of the phrase “too many cooks spoil the soup” because time after time our chocolate chip cookies turned into some sort of paper-thin crunchy mess, yet alone they always came out right. You taught me to enjoy the simple things in life. Many nights were spent playing “ditch ‘em” in front of my house with our many neighbors, mostly boys that could outrun us like nobody’s business. On hot summer days we’d bolt across the street barefoot, jumping from lawn to lawn in order to get the beads for the bracelets we decided to make. During monsoons, we met out in front of our houses. There was no need for a phone call to meet when it was raining because we both knew that the other would be waiting outside. We would dance in the rain and splash in the puddles until we were dripping wet. The week before school was always spent assembling various scrapbook/collage pages to adorn our brand new folders. Once school started we would meet every morning to walk to school and after school we would chase down our siblings for the walk home again. It was one of these afternoons that I realized what a great friend you were. My grandparents were babysitting my brother and I that week while my parents stayed in Lake Tahoe. A note was delivered to me in class telling me to walk home with you that afternoon instead of returning to my house. We met at the flagpole like any other day and began to make our way to your house. As we turned down our street I noticed my cousin’s car in front of my house. Obeying orders, I went home with you and you assured me that my cousin was probably just hanging out with my grandparents. Your mom was ready for us with popcorn like always, but the tears in your mom’s eyes made it apparent that something was terribly wrong. You convinced her to let me go home and be with my family. My cousin told me the awful truth about the events earlier that day that ultimately resulted in my grandmother’s passing. The following days are a blur, but you were always there for me. If I needed to talk, to cry, or just to get away, you were there. I can’t thank you enough for that. Yet somehow, between then and now, we grew apart. Maybe growing apart is part of growing up. Maybe I haven’t told you this recently and I think I should. I miss you. I miss our art projects, our lazy days outside, our silly dances, and our wonderful conversations. I want you to know that no matter how far we are in distance or in our friendship, I promise I’ll be there for you…when the rain starts to pour.
Next musing: untitled
Back to amnesiac's Notebook :: Back to the Musings
Since no one left a note, I'll just say that this was a very moving, very well written piece and I greatly enjoyed it. It's always good to know there's a friend there for you when it begins to pour, isn't it?

   [disillusioned (J :: M) 8/6/03 10:20 AM]

<-- Log in to leave a note, or create an account, if you don't already have one


Home | Editor Bios | Musings | Editor Journals

Design and concept copyright 2003, 2004 Chris Cardinal :: Content copyright its respective authors

Synapse Studios: Website Design, Custom Software Development, and Web-Based Applications

OIO Page Processed in 0.028 seconds, using ~15 queries. :: 8388607
Now playing: (At least on Dis' machine)