This was originally posted on Blurty, quite a bit ago. It was one (the only one) I had saved from The Great Purge. When my computer died a while back, I assumed it was gone. Sweet surprise to discover it hiding in a folder entitled "stuff". Yes, I am that organized.

I'm reposting it here because a) I like it and it still stands as true, and b) it's safer here than on my computer.

Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends.

Peace.



"nostalgia"

When I was in grade 6, my best friend was the girl who lived just down the street. She had brown eyes and brown hair, was rail thin, owned a goofy sense of humour and an eraser collection that covered a whole wall in her bedroom. We clicked immediately.

For months, every day after school was spent at her house, eating popcorn or munching quickie rice krispie squares while we did homework and gossiped about boys. We accused each other of having crushes on Peter, the blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was polite and made us blush when he smiled. We memorized the words to "Stray Cat Strut" so we could sing along with it when it played on the radio and made up ridiculously cool dances to other songs.

We played Trivial Pursuit constantly and chess after that because we could and it made us feel smart. Chess was when we had our most serious conversations - parents that fought; if God was real - how could he let people kill baby seals?; how sleepovers on school nights were logical but forbidden, and of course, which girls in class had started wearing a bra.

Each Friday or Saturday night was spent at one of our homes. She had a queen size waterbed that almost filled her room completely, and we'd each pick a corner and curl up in it to read or write. Our diaries were open books with the occasional guest commentary written for each other. We plastered scratch'n'sniff stickers over their covers with "I heart Ralph Macchio" scribbled on the inside of them. We giggled constantly, as only 11 year old girls can.

From those days I learned that the New Years song was not "Old Lane Sign" and that I could balance 32 pennies on my elbow and catch them all in my hand without dropping a single one. Still a record for me.

By the time we were 12, our friendship had eased and we didn't see much of each other. She was at a different school then and our 'best friend' loyalties had of course been sworn to others. We attended the same high school, but the diary days were over and Ralph Macchio didn't make it out of puberty with us. We sat together sometimes in the cafeteria and could still make each other laugh; plus, one night shortly after she had gotten her driver's license, we drove around and around the block of a certain hockey player named Paul that she maturely admitted to having a severe crush on. There was no teasing; it seemed more painful than playful.

Then she moved with her mom out east and that was it. There were no good bye's and no hugs and no tears and just a vague mention of writing. There were no letters.

Fast forward 7 years. A letter. She's alive and well and attending a university down in Minnesota, doing well. A phone call and a promise of keeping in touch. We both fail at that.

6 more years and we come to today. For the past year, year and a half, we've been emailing. Reconnecting. And it's stunning how much we have in common. Favourite movies, books, sense of humour. Neither of us are maudlin and I think we can appreciate that missing years of each other's life just makes for more fantastic stories to recount between us.

And for as much as I love the people I've been close with since 6th grade, I can't help but think that when I was 11, I knew more about choosing friends than I do now.

I still have old pictures of us being silly, taken with the polaroid camera my parents gave me that Christmas, and I still have the stuffed animal she gave me for my birthday that same year. I even have the old diary.

I didn't know it, but I've missed her. And I'm grateful she's back in my life.

Here's to new beginnings with old friends.



soundtrack:Stray Cats - "Stray Cat Strut"