Jumbled Memories

Brandy told Lindy that when she was grown that she would not remember a single person that she met when she was 9 as an adult. I immediately tried to recall a name of a friend from that time but could not. I thought about it for awhile and actually can now recall a handfull of people. Veronica was in my class although I cannot remember our teachers name. She was a chubby mexican girl, with beautiful long thick wavy black hair that she wore down most of the time, and mismatched clothes. I would remember that detail because at that time my clothes always matched. My mother was very into appearances. She was polite and thoughtful and a friend to me. We did not have many friends at school. I was new, having just moved to town and she was the daughter of migrant workers. For some reason the children of the migrant workers were not accepted by most of the other mostly white children. I remember her eating out with us a lot and how greatful her parents seemed that we spent so much time together. I could never understand why. I remember them giving us fruit and produce. They did not speak a lot of English but I could tell that they loved me. I remember eating at her house once and wishing that my mom could cook like that. Her family traveled with the seasons going where the work was. I knew her for a spring and summer. When Veronica left I started hanging out with Michele who lived across the street. She had frizzy aburn hair and a ton of freckles. She went to catholic school, her mother was Irish and spoke with an accent. I got a bicycle for Christmas. I had just turned 10 the month before. It was a beach cruiser and way to big. They had no time to teach me how to ride it. Probably they assumed that I could since I was 10. Michele saw me standing outside holding my bike up and crying. She taught me how to ride a bike. I think she may have been older than me because she was just beginning to get acne and grow breasts. Her mother always called me love and other pet names and that made me feel great. My mother never called me anything but Lydia or Ann-Marie when she was mad at me. Micheles mother is the reason that I call the little girl next door Sweety and my Lindy Babydoll. Sarita was the first friend that I can recall she lived next door to me when I was around 3 (yes I can remember this) she may have been alot older than me because she had an easy bake oven. She was black and wore her hair in tiny little braids. She had a baby brother named William. Her mother had a pretty voice and would sing as she did house work and I remember her being very pretty. My parents never went in their house that I can remember. Then they moved and a military policeman named Leroy and his wife Maggie moved in with their 4 evil brats. My parents and them were the best of friends. They had a little blonde girl named Poppy which I thought was a stupid name. She also molested and hurt me which my mom knew about but we still went to their house. The older boy tied me up and cut my hair and made me drink pee and stuck a burning rope into my brothers ear. Which his parents beat him black and blue for. Obviously no one on our block was getting the parent of the year award. The next friend I can remember was Kevin a cute little boy blonde boy with big brown eyes. I was in the 1st grade I think. We held hands alot and he bought me a chocolate bunny for Easter. I was also friends with Joshua at that time, he smelled like Poo and his mom was blind. She didn't like him playing outside but he snuck out anyway. She would call for him and he would come when he wanted to. I would go to his door and tell his mom that he was plaing with us, not to worry. Then she would tell me to tell him that his grandma was going to spank him when she got home, but he didn't care. I don't remember many friends between then and 3rd grade. I think my best friend was my 3rd grade teacher. Her name was Carol Salazar and she had Curly (permed I think) she loved me even though I was a crappy student and sometimes disruptive. I think she could see though my mothers facade. She was very proud of her son, he played the guitar. She bought me a tin that said follow your dreams. We communicated for many years and then lost track. Her name has changed with her marriages. I do not even know if she is still alive. I remember her helping me to feel like I was worth something just because she thought so. Right before I met Veronica, I met Genevieve and we held hands and laughed alot and she was alot of fun. I remember being very in love with her. Then one day this girl Victoria that did not like me brought a bunch of cabbage patch kids to school and I asked if I could play with one and she said that I could if I let her play with mine when I brought them to school. Then I told her that I did not have any dolls at all. Then she said that I couldn't play with her dolls but Genevieve could if she would agree not to be my friend anymore. So Genevieve told me to go away because she hated me and wasn't my friend anymore. I cried for the rest of the day. I can still remember how hurt I was. I hid in the cafeteria and one of the lunch ladies found me and asked me why I was crying. So I told her in between sobs. She held me and then she laughed and said to stop crying and that tomorrow she would still be my best friend and that some times people say things they don't mean. Well the next day came and Genevieve told me that she wasn't going to be my friend because Victoria gave her a cabbage patch kid. At that time Cabbage patch kids were a hot item, people waited in lines for hours just to get one. Then we moved soon after in the middle of the year. I must have told my mother about this incident because from that time on I was into dolls up to my ears. I had a ton of cabbage patch kids. My mother started collecting dolls and to this day still does. I vaguely remember Veronica and I playing with them. I kept them even though I did not play with them, I finally got rid of them when I was 17 and living on my own in an effiency apartment. There was just not enough room. I gave them away to all the kids in the apartment complex. I remember later wishing I had kept just a few. When I was in the 5th grade I met Chris Dobbertin he was blonde and freckly, his mother was moody. They drove a Lincoln Continental, we spent a summer riding our bikes all over town. Then he started hanging out with boys. After that came boyfriends and no other real friends that were kids except for Ben Trahan but he is much more than a blog. He is probably a book. Lord I miss that boy.