day 17, to my first best friend

Day 17. Someone from your childhood

Amy,

Do you remember the time you fell off of the bars on the playground that we used to balance ourselves on and swing from? You broke your arm, and I thought your cast was amazing. I lied about how it all happened–said your mom came & had to drive you in a school bus to the hospital. For a moment, I thought the story had gone over. My parents were shocked. I think they were just shocked at how big I'd lie to tell a story.

Now that I'm older, I see the lie as ridiculous, but I think even more ridiculous was the existence of those bars in the first place. What did they expect to happen when children were swinging from metal bars above a gravel-floored playground? Then again, the shredded tire they tried to use as terrain wasn't better. I remember standing up after jumping from the swing. My knees were died black. I smelled like the street. I dug pieces out of chips and abrasions in my hands.

The best memories I have with any childhood friend happen in your basement, or when your bedroom got moved upstairs and your ceiling had all those cools angles from the roof. I would have died for a bedroom like that, but we were too young to know what dying meant. It was something that we acted out, then stood up to smooth out or skirts and continue with the next scene.

 I'm not sure how or why we stopped hanging out or really talking. I hope I didn't upset you. I hope you didn't feel like I was mean to you. I never meant to be. Or if I did, it was middle school & it didn't really mean anything. That doesn't make it better, but I don't remember anything I did that was mean. I hope that's accurate, but we like to trick ourselves & make the memories into better people. I promised I never wrote mean things about you or said bad things about you. I'm sure at some points I talked about being mad at you, but what else did we all have to talk about when that group of girls moved as a solid unit–a cloud of he-said-she-said-they-kissed that grew gradually more segregated & vicious.

You were a great friend. I hope I was, too. I was really pissed when they separated us for second grade. We started finding new friends, and that's when it all fell apart. You were always there, but we couldn't go back to the time when you broke your arm & we listened to No Doubt in your living room. Thanks for being my first best friend & helping me figure out what friends could mean to each other.

Love,
Meg

Enjoy what you're reading? I'd love to know that we're on track. Click Follow on the right side of the screen to stick with us.