I’m not a kid anymore,
But some days, I sit and wish I was a kid again
This weekend, I was able to sit and really read a little item that my bestest friend in the world sent me last week, called a Circle Journey book. Before letting you see it, I want to explain how when we were younger, we weren’t allowed to go over each others houses. Our parents liked us, but they didn’t like the city that we lived in, or the odds of a little black girl, or a little Filipino girl traveling all by themselves together in it. Mind you, we took public transportation to school, or walked every morning. It’s odd how when I was little I thought that they were crazy, but now looking at my 12-year-old son, I realize that they weren’t, but their love for us just made them more protective. Even if it did seem stifling and unnecessary.
In Chicago this summer there have been well over 30 shootings in one week. A lot of the wounded are children. Babies even, and it’s so darn ridiculous. It’s a shame that a young girl who was selling lemonade in front of HER house, was shot in the back trying to preserve her life one more day, and ended up losing it.
I long for the days of where I could sit outside and not worry about danger. And don’t give me well you DO live in Chicago, and you DO live on “blah, blah” side of it, because if they aren’t shooting on one side, they’re breaking into houses. And if they aren’t breaking into houses, they are running behind people on the lakefront to slice their throats, and if they’re not doing that, they’re attacking young women and assaulting them. It’s south, west, and north. It’s ugly.
That’s why I wouldn’t mind going back to my childhood, where my best friend and I used to clog the postal system (which is probably why karma is biting me in the butt with them) with our lengthy letters that only went across town. Where I remember postage stamps being 25 cents, then 27, then 29! It was getting expensive for us to keep in touch then. We would stay on the phone for hours and then sit down and eagerly transcribe what happened during our day as if we just didn’t talk about it.
That’s why, when she unearthed a book that I purchased shortly after the cellist was born called a Circle Journey book, I got a little bit sad. I realize that I was a better friend then, than I am now. I’m so focused on my tribe here, that I don’t really have time to sit and talk to her like I want. With her having a new addition as well, a couple of months before I had the twizzlers, I am sure that her life is a little bit different as well. Hee hee.
This is what we’ve used to write back and forth to each other – well, with a nine year time lapse – but it’s a great little invention, and I wish that they were still in production, because I would truly buy more.
I did a bit of internet scouring, and I found out that the creator of these stopped production a couple of years ago due to people not really writing each other much anymore. Sad. What’s sadder is I added to that growing number of non-writers.
So my plan is to either find another of these for sale somewhere, or create my own little rendition of it as soon as we complete this book that we’re working on now.
It’s weird to think about the fact that I have known my best friend longer than I’ve known my husband. Mostly because he and I met during eighth grade, and I knew her four years before that. Time flies when there are good people in your life.
So – do you have a best friend? Do you all still write each other snail mail? Did I totally throw you for a loop talking about the violence in Chicago and doing a segue into letter writing? I know, I know. I’m all types of interesting.