Some childhood memories

Those were the days when you stared at ants on the sidewalk and enjoyed the smell of the street after rains. When you stopped to appreciate all the little things and you played for hours in the sandbox. Too young to put a straw in a Caprisun. Lunch was an Uncrustable. Lucky Charms was a miracle. So was getting Lunchables. You found a prize inside your cereal while you sat watching Spongebob reruns. When you were scared of the dark, but fearless for the future. Returned from school with a smile and a sticker from your teacher. But didn’t know the day would come when you’d be grateful for the friends you had then – until you no longer had them. 

That day has come.

Pretty good

You couldn’t assume anything was wrong with him. He was too kind. He opened the door to his house with a “what’s up” and when you asked how he was, he said “pretty good.” He always said it the same way: With his eyes closed and head tilted down, smiling with his teeth. Maybe it’s because he was pretty good all the time. It was what he made it, pretty good, and he made others feel pretty good. Maybe it’s because he wanted others to have what he couldn’t. He was like that. And it wasn’t until you left – until you’d gone back home smiling, until the doors had closed that it happened, what wasn’t seen by us; the other side of his life, raw and unfiltered by the true words left unsaid. He kept the door closed for us so we wouldn’t be burdened. He kept the door closed. 

The boys

Sunny Saturday afternoon. Perfect Dollar Tree weather. 

• Meet at Courregeous Park 
• Maybe pick up Ryan?
• Walk to Dollar Tree
• Buy random crap
• Get fish and chips on the way back, eat candy, try weird knock off cereal brands
• Get sick because you can’t drink a gallon of milk in under an hour

That’s how it always went. Except for the time Jack and I bought the odd ice cream you can only get from the ice cream man in the van. And when we bought a 10lb bag of oranges and had to carry it for the rest of the day. Or when you go to Target and race in shopping carts. Or play in a band really badly. But that’s the kind of stuff you do with the boys. Stupid stuff. You’ve gotta do it now; when else are you gonna do it?

Dumb

It’s easier to be dumb than smart. Ignorance is bliss, after all. It’s easier to set people’s expectations low, that way they’ll be impressed when you do the bare minimum. We’re kids. We know how to manipulate. It only becomes a problem when you actually start to believe that stuff. That’s what happened to a kid I know. It was easier to say “uhhh…I don’t know” and move on than to set aside your pride and say “Sorry, I forgot. Can you remind me?” Not to mention when you’re dumb, they don’t ask how you’re doing. They assume you’re simple and happy and don’t bother. He went through the day dumb and less drained sometimes and it felt good; it felt normal. Being dumb saved real emotion for later. Sometimes you can even trick people into really believing you’re dumb. But don’t trick yourself into thinking that, he said. Or else you really are dumb. 

Balance

Sometimes you see something in someone and want it for yourself. I’ve noticed it can cause two things: you can become jealous of what they have, or you can try to get it for yourself. I admire some people for their confidence, sometimes brashness, and assertiveness – something I want more of. And still – making a change in yourself is a balancing act. It’s like a spider web, the lines between narcissism and vanity versus confidence and pride. I have plenty of some of those – but I end up catching flies.