Reminiscing

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I sit next to two people I hardly know. Two people who have since grade school chosen entirely different paths. One girl who is intelligent, benign and quiet. Overall she is well liked by many even though she has few true friends. Her kind acts, considerate actions and her agreeable personality had won acceptance among many. Another girl who is seen as rude and malicious and has many friends although few who are genuine and loyal to her. People flock to her for the latest gossip and scandal.


The first girl, the kind one, speaks up quietly “Do you remember that time you spent the night at my house in third grade?”

“Yea. You had a cat.” The vindictive girl paused sharing a rare smile. “I brought chopsticks. I thought they were the coolest things in the world.”

“We went to bed at eight because my mom said we were being bad.”

“And we spent the night in the living room whispering and sharing secrets.”

“I remember you asking me what my house looked like.”

“And you said blue, grayish with the house number 1092. Do you still live there?”

“Yea. I do.” Responded the kind girl.

“We were best friends.”

“Yes, we were.”

I sit there listening to this exchange. They both awkwardly stop realizing they were both thinking the same thing. What Happened? The nice girl continues.

“And I remember when I came to your birthday party in third grade” She said to me.

“Fifth grade. I moved here in Fifth grade.” I said realizing I would never have the opportunity to converse with my childhood friends. I would never be able to reminisce the time we had a parade or when our principal pretended he was his twin brother and we actually believed him. I suddenly ached for these opportunities that I would never have, to remember with someone that you once knew better then yourself.





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HBCdance This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Sept. 29, 2009 at 7:53 pm
It's perfect. I think everyone has this kind of thing, leaving childhood friends behind; becoming anew person, when maybe you really just wanted to stay the same. Keep writing. Little memoirs like this are so touching, because they pull on the strings of the reader's memories, and they understand it really, really well.
 
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