If the person who I wrote this about- reads this- all apologies-, class taught me to, embellish
Just two children together we were an opportunity for prolonging friendship. Otherwise our memories will only be one of many.
I remember my friend having a very pale face framed with brown hair. His voice was delicate and soft with youth. I enjoyed his company, at five years old I valued any companion.
At the time I knew him I was fascinated with animals. I discovered that if I dress like one I might feel like one. The day he was supposed to come over I decided that we could both pretend to be animals. So I gently tied a hair yarn around my neck, and when my friend entered through the door, I leaped down the stairs.
I looked at the boy infront of me, and I smiled with confidence. As I wrapped the yarn around his neck, I became nervous when I noticed how steady and solid he stood. I felt that I was responsible to live up to his trust.
Pulling gently on both ends of the yarn, I faced the boy with deep brown eyes. The ends became closer together, and he still stood unmoving, not doubting my good intentions. Concerned the yarn might come loose, I tugged tighter on both ends, watching his face to see his expression. Expecting praise I see instead his expressionless face form into a grimace. He gags but still does not move, and I stared in awe as he stumbled to the floor.
As the door closer, he disappeared, with the background that he centered and the scene he had focused.
A hundred and twenty one candles blown on eleven birthdays already passed, since that boy had touched my life. My hobbies have changed, and a computer now lies infront of me, instead of my imagination. Now I log online and enter a chat with someone who has a very interesting screen name. We start talking and I decide to give him my number.
He calls me and we greet each other, and he tells me his real name. It brought back memories.......and then I knew where I had heard it from.
"When I was little I choked a boy with your name," I said to him.
"Really? Well maybe that was me," he replied.
"Hey, did you ever live on Frances Street?"
"I think so, yes."
"You might be him!Ó"I was now excited, because this might be the boy I used to play with as a child.
The next day he calls me again, and says he has something to tell me. I listen and he told me that his mom remembered my name, and that in fact he was the child that I had known, eleven years ago. But he did not remember me from then. Still I have one clear memory that had always lingered at the back of my mind before it finally became real.
We continued to talk only on the phone, since we had not met each other yet. Even then we reacquainted and gained interest in rebuilding our friendship.
"Sorry for choking you," I said one day when we were talking.
"Oh it's okay, I'm sure you meant no harm,Ó"was all he said, and of course he did not remember that incidence or me at all.
We planned to meet in a store, farther on in that same week.
I walked up to the store when that day came, and opened the door. I saw behind it a boy fairly tall, much taller than I remembered, with nicely combed hair and a small uneasy smile. His eyes were still deep brown, soft and open as they had been before. They were willing to let any visitors inside, he let people hold his fate in their hands, he almost gave away his trust.
We began to become closer and spend time together, and his devotion and trust he had in me, reminded me how he had stood still before me, trusting me to be completely reliable.
And again his trust he misplaced- because I took him for granted. he was always there for me, so I thought he always would be no matter what I do. I became less of a priority to him, but still I was near the top. I then realized I was lucky to know him, and that is when his constant calls turned into mine. He would receive them well- but when we talked it seemed like he had his mind somewhere else.
As I sit here writing this piece, I stumbled when I get to where I need to know his eye colour. Somehow I had forgotten the details in the moment I was looking into his eyes. They seemed clear and important then, but now they are only a memory left to fizzle. It can be preserved if I keep in contact with the life that will keep this memory living, to look into his eyes whenever I forget their colour.
I call him and his soft voice answers the phone, and I smile. I asked him if he was on the phone, and he answered yes. Someone picked up, and then I accused him of not being on the phone, but he reminded me he was on the phone with me.
After I earned a few laughs on my behalf, I began to start the conversation, but he interrupted me.
"Who are you?" he says this and I pause, a little shocked. I thought since he seemed to be familiar with me- that he actually knew who I was.
"Don't you know who this is?"
"Well, not really, but I have a guess."
A guess is all he would have had if I had not told him he would have remained on the other line with only an idea. Dwelling on memories, I can only live on clues, no one will ever confirm my guess that he is that boy.
He did not remember me from his childhood......
Just as his eye colour had slipped from my mind, all memory of our relationship touched him once and was carried away- but a fresh start shone around the corner.