Last night I was enjoying a cup of coffee after dinner out on the deck…surrounded by my cockatiel Zowie and the two cats, Beast and Kitty. The cats were mesmerized by something over by the neighbors and as I looked over, I noticed the little 3 year old boy running by(I could only see his chubby little legs) and shortly after, another set of chubby little legs chasing him. At first they were throwing a little ball back and forth(well, lets just say they were throwing the ball but the other one wasen’t catching it…) and I could hear an adult now and then. I guess the adults decided they were going to be ok and went inside for a little while.
At some point, the one little guy noticed there were cherries on the tree. I could see them jumping up on the branch trying to get some of the cherries. The only thing that accomplished was that the branch broke… A set of chubby little legs then dashed by and next you see the one coming with a plastic milk crate and the other with a sand bucket. Mr. Milk Crate then plops the milk crate under the branches, climbs on and proceeds to reach for the branches. Mr. Sand Bucket is jumping up and down as well. No cherries. They mumble together and Mr. Milk Crate then searches for something else…comes back with something that looked like a plastic helmet, puts that on the crate and proceeds to balance on that…at this point I am starting to get a little nervous. He does ok, is able to finally reach some cherries and gives them to Mr. Sand Bucket…who incidentally has put the sand bucket 10 yards away and has to run back and forth to put the cherries in. This goes on for quite a while until I hear the adult mumbling again, he scrambles off the milk crate and they both rush up with their treasure of cherries.
This took me down memory lane…towards “First Friends”. Do you remember your first friend? If you were lucky to have siblings and cousins around who were close in age, you might not have had outside friends til preschool or Kindergarten. Since I only had one sibling who was 11 years older than I was, my first friend was Patti. Our mothers were both in the “International Women’s Club”…at that time there were a lot of women who had been war brides and had come over to the US. Patti’s mother was from Belgium and her father had been stationed in Belgium during WW2.
Patti and I were together from when she was 1 and I was 2. She had curly brown hair, big brown eyes with the long lashes, sweet face and disposition…I was the light blond with blue eyes and also easy going…and together we made a formidable team. Whatever the one thought of, the other would gladly go along with. Trouble was our middle name!
One incident I remember quite well(and there were several, trust me), was when we were around 3 and 4. They lived in an apartment that consisted of 2nd and 3rd floor. There was a bathroom on the second floor and Patti wanted to play in the water in the sink one day. We filled the sink and put the toys in and all of the sudden, I see Patti stand up on the tub edge and lock the door.
“Knock, Knock, Knock”…”Girls…what are you doing in there?”…we hear Patti’s mother, trying to be very calm. No answer. “Patti…why is the door locked?” Her voice isn’t very calm now. I went over to the door and tried to unlock it. “I can’t open it.” “please try again…” By this time Patti’s mother is getting a frantic sound to her voice… Patti is still playing in the water…singing as well…
No more sounds coming from the door. So I went to play in the water too. Looking out the window, we watch Patti’s mother down below dragging a very tall ladder up to the wall of the house. She looked disheveled and desperate at this time. Whomp…we see the ladder resting again the wall and slowly her mother is climbing the ladder…she is now at the window, rips off the screen with a strength I have never seen in her and pulls up the window(thank heavens Patti haden’t figured out how to lock that!) and jumps into the room.
“Are you ok? Are you ok? ” I was crying at this point because I knew this wasen’t going to be good…Patti was Miss Cool and just walked over to her mother, clung to her and all was well with the world. My mother was called and I was picked up because Patti’s mother had visibly had enough of that play date…
Patti and I went on to have many escapades over the years…and we also had many times when all we did was play with our dolls. We loved dressing up and pretending. Her mother also would pretend she was a witch and chase after us…I think of that now and truly wonder if we pushed her over the edge some days!
Patti and I stuck together until I would say Junior High or High School…things changed too much then and we went different directions. Not that we didn’t keep track of each other but somewhere along the way we lost each other…
Seeing those two little boys last night brought back Patti to me…wonder where you are Patti…you were the best first friend ever…miss you.
til next time…Eva