
Because anyone could easily catch us quoting one of our all-time favorite movies, Just Friends, I would pair the following story with this song. Michelle, this is for you.

We jump all over the living room, never allowing our bare
feet to touch the carpet. Only the tops of the tables, sofa arms, chair seats,
and smooth wooden benches can be our space for solid ground. Otherwise, I’ll
lose the game and once again fall short of your heightened coordination and
careful attention as you hop from the side table, to the sofa’s arm, to the
velvet chair cushion.
We build the fort of blankets on the limbs of the tree
outside, dragging the white metal table and chairs inside the structure for the
summer tea party. While you run inside the house just for a minute, I manage to
crash down on the metal table and eventually bounce down to the grass in a
painful heap. That left a bruise. I
obviously don’t do as good of a job without your guided expertise in the
building process.
You’re growing out of playing Barbies with me, but you’re
still nice enough to pretend for just a while longer. While I play the
character of only one Barbie, you’re forced to play the characters of the rest
of the fifteen plus Barbies. Including the much-needed male characters.
You start to collect and read every Star Wars book
imaginable. I begin to fling my entire body in front of the TV screen as you
try to watch one Star Wars movie after another, my small fingers gripping onto
Barbie’s hair.
Suddenly we’re old enough to seriously worry about boys. And
homework. Then college. And jobs. And money.
We ski on the slopes with the bits of snow flying into our
faces; I scream out of sheer fear, and you turn around to laugh, of course. We
try to split the gas and hotel fees for our summer trip to the beach, and we
realize how rusty our math has really become. You flip the sausage, pour the
syrup on the waffles, and stir the sugar cubes into the tea, serving all three
to me as I sit at your table, one swinging foot hitting the chair rung every
now and again. Our dogs sniff the floors and bark at the cars, and we lung
after them when they start running full speed. You fall in a heap on the grass
while we walk the dogs on the college campus near your new house, and I turn
around to laugh, of course.
You’re a year older today, and I’m close behind you. Based
on our past record, I suppose I should admit that we’ll be there for one
another, whether it’s to lend a hand or offer an ear. And every one in a while,
one of us is bound to turn around at the other and laugh. Of course.
0 comments:
Post a Comment