Childhood
As I grow old I realize just how much my childhood friends are part of me. And I wish they were here.
I have a few of them now. Back in my life. But some of them are gone.
One left us because he chose to. It makes me angry and it hurts my heart every time I look at his beautiful smile or rhyme his name with mine. And I don’t know where to put him. So, he remains. And I feel guilty.
Many have moved away. They are living life. Living with spouse and children. Living with children and no spouses. Living. Happy? Content? I don’t know.
Some are back in my hometown but it is not always the same. There are really only so many that you have that connection with, ya know? That connection that feels like family. Like you could still walk into their house (or their parent’s house) and go to the fridge and grab a drink like you were 10 again. I have only two of those friends from childhood and it always feels so good to sit back and feel their warmth.
I know what you mean Miss Marcie Bean. I reconnected with one of my dearest childhood friends a few years ago, and it wasn’t the same. She felt like a stranger. We use to be sooo much alike, but as adults we are like night & day, so very different. I prefer to remember her as that little blond girl who would paint puffy paint on our new white Keds or trade scratch & smell stickers with.
I believe people come into our lives for reasons. Some stay, so leave, but they are all there to play an integral part when and where we need them to be.