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By Michael T (memory) Submitted by MichaelT() Date: 2001 Jul 26 Comment on this Work [[2001.07.26.03.31.25154]] |
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I was one of those difficult four year olds. You know, the ones that won't let Mom go to work; I'd throw tantrums and hold my breath until I turned purple. I was a big pain in the ass - until nursery school. Her name was Yolanda Sue Smith. My mom loved her, because she was the reason I suddenly liked going to the nursery. I don't remember what she looks like. I can't remember her at all actually. But my mother swears we were best friends. Yolanda's parents moved away soon after and I never saw her again. But a little while later, Heather joined the nursery. I remember Heather. Blonde hair down to her shoulders. Blue eyes. We played together all the time. I remember naptimes and playing with blocks. I never figured out if it was a dream or real - but I have this memory. It's dark and everyone else has already been picked up and the nursery is open late at night because it's for the nurse's kids at the hospital. Mrs. Harper is in another room and it's just me and Heather waiting. Heather and I are both scared and it's a big scary world and who knows what's out there. Then Heather grabs my left hand as you're taught to do when you're young and scared and little. And I'm brave then, brave for Heather and brave because somebody has to be brave and brave because it's Heather and I'm a boy and I'll protect her. Things were so much simpler then. You could just ask if someone wanted to play, and you did. There wasn't her last boyfriend's behavior and her unspoken fear of abandonment or her unrealistic expectations of Mr. Perfect. There wasn't my fear of real intimacy, temporary success, or loss of control. There was who you were today and if that was company enough to keep a smile on your face. And there was that naive hope that if you just held on tight and stayed brave that everything would be ok. I never went through that stage most boys do where they think girls have cooties. It was because of Heather. Sometimes -- when it's dark and I don't know what's coming I wonder how many wrong women I'm going to get to know before I meet the next girl who's going to hold my hand when she's scared. I'll be brave baby. |