Memory

The November I was in fourth grade we moved. It wasn't the first time but this move meant a new school where I knew no one. One girl (T) who lived down the street befriended me. T was like the sister I didn't have. She was what you'd call street-smart. She taught a very shy, naive, overweight girl a lot of things she probably wasn't ready to learn. One of those lessons hurt a lot.

A year or so later, she suddenly turned on me. Physically fighting me, pushing me into bushes, maneuvering so that she could soak me by jumping in puddles and then leave, laughing, with her other friends. I had no idea what I'd done or what happened. I was in tears and withdrew even more. (I did finally find out what had happened. I was the only friend she had ever brought home that her mother liked. Her way of handling that was to turn on me.)

I had a call from my parents on the weekend, asking if I remembered a certain name. This person had unexpectedly died last week. When I went to the funeral home website and saw T's picture and her maiden name, my first thoughts weren't "But she's only my age." or "How awful for her family."

My inner 10 or 11 year old, who can only remember how it felt to be beaten up and heartbroken, pulled up all the old memories and laid them out again. Those emotions have effectively blocked out rational thought. I knew I hadn't forgotten but I thought I'd come to terms with it.

I guess I was wrong.