I’ve been neglecting this blog and for that I apologize. I’ve been having a hard time thinking of things to write, or write about. I’ve neglected most of my creative pursuits so I hope you don’t feel slighted.
I was inspired by this video by Ze Frank. I encourage you to go watch it for some context. (It should open in a separate window/tab.)
Okay, are you back? The basic premise was to make up a memory and share it with everyone. So, I wrote two memories. To make it interesting, I wrote one real and one fake memory. Can you figure out which one is real?
Do you remember the day we first met? It was Sunday. It was a bright, sunny day; the perfect day for first meetings and last goodbyes. There was chalk out on the sidewalk in support of some charity that I’m sure you’d remember but I don’t. We paid a dollar for the opportunity to colour the pavement with our ideas. We played hopscotch for the first time since I was in primary school. I drew pictures of rainbows and unicorns. You drew pictures of people in awkward positions to make me laugh. Finally, I wrote my phone number on the pavement. Thunder cracked in the sky and we ran under the overhang to stay dry. Our imaginings washed away with the rain.
Do you remember the day you wouldn’t let me play skip rope? The day was humid and there weren’t a lot of people playing. Most were seeking shade in the vast expanse of the playground where there was only one tree on the top of a huge hill. Generations of children had played there, shifting the soil and exposing the tree roots, perfect for sitting on imagining the tree as a sort of house with rooms and furniture. Of course, kids our age weren’t allowed on the hill; the playground rules dictated only those who’d reached grade eight could sit with the tree. The rest of the kids were left to find shade where they could, like under the plastic slide that was newly replaced after the high school kids burned down our bigger one of mostly wood and steel. So, there was only you and Greg playing jump rope, tying one end to the drain pipe so one of you could turn and the other could jump, except it wasn’t working very well. I wandered by and agreed to be the other turner. When it was my turn to jump, I wasn’t allowed and was sent away; replaced by the inadequate drain pipe that was still preferable to playing with me.