A Girlhood

Dear K.,

Once again you cross the plains of my mind

a youthful, 12 year old face of warm brown skin

as unforgettable as your dimpled cheeks

I wonder what you’d think if you knew

the weight your memory holds

.

I imagine what you saw, the day you chose me

All skinny limbs and chapped lips, braces and unkempt curls–

a late bloomer, late in every way

Always behind, always running

reaching and wanting

to catch up,

to be liked and social but

too timid and fresh out of my shell

.

It was you who caught me, you

who put me at ease under your wing

who taught me how to sharpen my tongue,

to toughen my skin, to

learn the art of conversation

and immature humor

.

.

Those early days I like to recall the most

Us and skid-marked marble school floors

the ambience of preteen chatter in the lunch room where,

with obnoxious laughter, you drew from me

my very first cuss word

.

The swell of pride in your eyes I will never forget

Nor can I forget my own heated face

beaming happily, as happily we

broke down the walls of my inhibitions

my childhood innocence

my need to be the perfect child

The choice had never been mine,

not before you

.

Crumbled walls made way for confidence,

a new foundation and

over the years we’d spend together from

dark movie theaters in the spring to

air-conditioned malls during the summer to

sharing moments on park swings under warm suns in the fall,

you left me with memories to last a lifetime

Memories that light my soul, still

Molding me like a piece of clay

.

.

Do you remember,

the last letter you wrote to me?

The day we graduated knowing, somehow,

our time together was ending?

.

Inside jokes, written and unwritten

the nod of acknowledgement to boyish days when

we were ugly and rough without a care in the world, because

we would only embrace femininity,

sensuality and softness

like a warm long-awaited hug

after we parted ways

.

Even in writing,

your restrained but obvious affection for me

encompassed everything we meant to each other,

everything we meant

Our friendship wasn’t perfect,

but it was wholesome

full of laughter and adventure

and ours

.

.

Sometimes I wish I’d gotten your number

at that dingy train station where we last crossed paths

You had looked so good

So beautiful,

just as I knew you always had been

.

But part of me knew, even then, that

maybe it was better to just wonder

To say to myself “remember when…?”

and instead, be grateful for the few chapters of my life where

you, intrinsically tied to me, decided to pass by

.

It’s here, between the lines of your last letter to me,

I let our friendship end

Your last words I still cling to, K.

My first true friend

.

“Have a nice life

I hope you don’t screw it up

Please don’t.”

.

Your late bloomer, always,

-Sariah