What do you get when you put together a four year old, a six year old, and a wad of bubblegum?
You get a bowl cut.
And so start my memories with you.
The little girl with the grass stained knees and forever tangled hair
The small boy with brush burned elbows and masking-tape suspenders.
What we utterly lacked in common sense we made up for in fun
And twice over in injuries
But what’s fun without a few battle scars?
Ever since that stair jumping competition my ankle will sprain with the slightest provocation
But 13 stairs, that’s something to be proud of, right?
And I still stand undisputed champion.
I was with you nearly 24/7 so in a way,
You sort of helped raise me.
As such was the case, for years I was known as
“That wild child”
“A free spirit”
“What a mess”
And with any family reunion scoldings would surely ensue for my lack in refinement.
But they weren't there when we told each other bedtime stories about the severed head
Who made his home in Nagy’s attic
As we traced the streets of France with our toes
Its cars and sidewalks and trees suspended above us.
They weren't with us when we sat in the neighbor’s tree and threw crab-apples at passing cars.
They didn't assist us in the baking of our mudcakes
Or the creation of our blanket-and-kitchen-chair-forts.
They didn't teach me the “cheesy smile”
Or how to do back flips off of a swing.
They didn't knock out my first tooth and then help me
Come up with the perfect questions to leave for the tooth fairy when she came to get it.
They weren't there when we wanted to see who could stare at the sun for the longest
(Obviously, otherwise they would have stopped us).
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet
But what would it be without a Roman?