My Beloved Childhood Friend

Memories are odd aren’t they? You can remember things so vividly at one point but the next, they are nowhere to be found. We can recall bragging of our impeccable memory and claiming we will never not be as sharp as we were. How could we? How could we go from retaining every minute piece of information and detail to struggling with one of the names of a previous teacher we had, just a few short years prior? Time is the answer. Time builds walls, it weighs on our weary hearts, and time holds such a large amount of thought, there is only so much room for anything else. Let alone the memories we have worked so hard to remove from our consciousness. I cannot express to you the depths of which my missing thoughts extend, but I can however, share with you a memory I will never lose sight of. I know this as a certainty for the simple reason that it has given and it gave me more joy than I ever could have hoped to gain from anywhere else.

If you recall my previous excerpt on nostalgia, you may be shocked to hear of this faithfully pleasant memory. Unlike the other recollections, I have not been able to carve from my mind this one, this assemblage of memories is far different than any of the particularly harmful ones. I have spoken of my childhood persona before, but to refresh any gaps, I shall enlighten you. I was firm in my premature opinions, never afraid to share what I held as none other than the exact truth. Not just firm, but pushy to a point it sometimes came off like a beatdown. Undeniably spirited, would be the next attribute I would associate with myself. Never a rock unturned nor trick unattempted, I was an all or nothing kind of gal. Unlike the princess fantasizers and boy-crazed children, I could be found digging my toes in the mud and riding my bike, on most average days. Gung ho is an understatement, if you wish to comprehend just how enthusiastic I was about pretty much all that I did. I was a stickler for the rules, despite my energized attributes. Like most children, I had my moments of deception, but typically I was thorough in obeying and holding to the set regulations my parents had established. This rule following also applied to games I played. Unless I and another person determined mutually, we were changing the rules- which was definitely the case occasionally- I wanted to follow exactly how it was laid out. No bending or fibbing of the above mentioned was tolerated. Although just a sum of how I behaved as a child, I believe this accurately depicts how I might be as a playmate.
I have never not been a difficult person to understand, I suppose. I often find myself on the sidelines and outer circle of things, simply because the way I function is so unusual to others’ routine way of operating. This sometimes made me a very lonely child, I have to admit. It was painful to watch as others rejected my presence because I was not exactly the same or what they desired in a person. This beloved friend of mine never made me feel like that a day in our multitude of escapades. He never once made me feel as if I was undesired or unwelcome. He never once left me feeling as if he had far better things to do than be bothered by me. He openly accepted me as I was and did not bother to try and change that nature, even when I was a bit (okay, a lot) overwhelming. When I looked at him, I could see in his eyes that the joy I was feeling to just be and just play, as children should, was absolutely reciprocated. I could never, possibly, imagine how I would have turned out if I did not have that much needed acceptance that he so generously provided. That love of friends, above all else.

You may be surprised as I reference my friend as a he. Why, a little ten year old girl having one ten year old boy as her best friend, it isn’t heard of frequently- out of the context of backstories to cheesy rom-coms. The two of us were beyond perfect for each other, at that time, though. His name was Daijón. A young boy that lived three houses down from me in my childhood home. Where do I even begin to tell you the things we did in those wonderful years I had the pleasure of being his partner in crime- or maybe he was the one doing the partnering.. I think I should start from how we met. Being the vigorous young children we were, we were always out on our bikes, riding at full speed. Well, my next door neighbor, at the time, had a large and untrimmed shrub across from her home, blocking a solid ten to twenty feet of sidewalk. One evening, biking alongside my brother, he and my brother crashed into one another, knocking all of us off our bikes. This is how it all began. From there, we played for hours in my front yard: biking, skating, scootering, jump roping, chalking, ripsticking. Anything we could get our hands on, we were doing it. We were constantly chasing one another, as if we had our own personal game of tag, within the numerous scenarios we concocted in our extravagant, young minds. The treehouse that resided in my backyard housed our tree climbing contests and sightseeing breaks, along with our various secret clubs and handshakes. Some extra cloudy days were spent sitting on the ugly, green, indoor outdoor carpet on my back porch, playing monopoly- which we were, for real, the masters of- building marble tracks, and racing the oldest and most battered assortment of toy cars you could ever imagine. During the summer, especially mornings turned to night and I fairly ever recall an occasion my beloved friend left before the sun had vanished completely. Holidays were celebrated, homes were opened, and treats were shared. There was never a single moment we spent not enjoying one another’s company.
This had to be the hardest of goodbyes I experienced, leaving the city I had known my entire life. While I was filled with a grand amount of excitement and curiosity as to what the future held for me and my family, I wished, more than anything else, I did not have to leave behind the person that single-handedly made me so content as a child. It is not often that an old memory brings a smile and sense of delight to my heart. For this, I am beyond grateful that I have them so vividly. It is, without a doubt, the clearest recollection I have of the place, regardless of the fact I lived there for seven years. Though I feel as if I already have gone into far more detail than you probably would like to hear, I cannot even begin to depict to you the amount of times of laughter and pure bliss we spent with one another, for it cannot be captured by any number of words. My dear friend, I write this to you in gratitude for such indescribably wondrous times. Thank you for the endless amusement. Thank you for the grace filled devotion. Thank you for the incalculable hours. Thank you for being exactly what I needed.

What is your clearest memory/memories of when you were young? Did you have a childhood best friend? I would love to hear your story below or in a private message! Thank you for listening to my babbles about when I was a mere babe, it honestly brought more joy than you could know to be able to reminisce about such pleasant times in my life. I do not often get that privilege, so the fact that I could is surprising but absolutely superb. Until next Monday ( or sooner, if you’re lucky… 😉 )


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