Rollar Coaster Favorite Ride
Once upon a time I was little girl in kindergarten, I had loose strawberry-blond curls and was still harboring the belief that we could all be friends. That fateful day I met Merissa, a little girl with straight brown hair and big brown eyes, being a social whore already, by the end of the day I replaced my old best friend Brandon with the fabulous new Merissa. Years later she told me she'd gone home that day and told her mom, "I think I made a friend today."
We were best friends from that day on, partners in crime and comrades in adventure. I led us on renegade bicycle trips straight to trouble. She taught me which boys were worth paying attention to and how to flip someone off a sea doo. We played Barbies in the hot-tub and were girl scouts together; our mothers were co-leaders and every time we went camping she and I had to clean the latrines and dishes more than everyone else. Her bird Spike hated me, every time I came into the house it would instantly sense my presence and attack as soon as I let down my guard, flying as if possessed by religious zeal right into my unholy hair; I hated that stupid bird.
Eventually the bird died and Merissa and I grew up, and up, and up, and up...until the two little girls were now towering above everyone else. Giants among women, Merissa and I wasted no time getting into super-sized trouble and started drifting apart. She was now in Florida, the land of Jeb, and I was living in Michigan, which is really, according to recent military intelligence, just a large, paved glacier; it was really rather lovely none-the-less. Later, I would fall in and out of love with the boy who's family had paved that glacier I called home. Merissa's boy wasn't into paving, he was into surfing, but he was responsible for the sometimes uncomfortable displacement of sand all over her world. Once we left our respective paradises, the boys no longer fit our lifestyles and Merissa and I reconnected while trying to evacuate the Crazy Train. The solution was much like being flipped off those sea doos when we were little girls, you let go once it gets too rough and hope the landing won't hurt too bad. It would have hurt a lot more if she hadn't been there to point to a soft landing spot.
Spring into the future and it's today. Merissa and I aren't cleaning latrines anymore, or dating crazies, and I'll be a monkey's aunt once-removed if I'm getting anywhere near that girl and a sea doo. Those two little girls from Meadow Lake Elementary are in college but we're still the same goofy kids. I love that girl like a fat vegetarian kid loves double soy-bacon boca cheeseburgers after a long, hard nap. She's ridiculous like I am and so much fun that sometimes my abs hurt from laughing after spending time with her. This year my best friend from kindergarten and I are making each other Easter baskets and there's no one I'd rather be spending my Easter with than her.
We were best friends from that day on, partners in crime and comrades in adventure. I led us on renegade bicycle trips straight to trouble. She taught me which boys were worth paying attention to and how to flip someone off a sea doo. We played Barbies in the hot-tub and were girl scouts together; our mothers were co-leaders and every time we went camping she and I had to clean the latrines and dishes more than everyone else. Her bird Spike hated me, every time I came into the house it would instantly sense my presence and attack as soon as I let down my guard, flying as if possessed by religious zeal right into my unholy hair; I hated that stupid bird.
Eventually the bird died and Merissa and I grew up, and up, and up, and up...until the two little girls were now towering above everyone else. Giants among women, Merissa and I wasted no time getting into super-sized trouble and started drifting apart. She was now in Florida, the land of Jeb, and I was living in Michigan, which is really, according to recent military intelligence, just a large, paved glacier; it was really rather lovely none-the-less. Later, I would fall in and out of love with the boy who's family had paved that glacier I called home. Merissa's boy wasn't into paving, he was into surfing, but he was responsible for the sometimes uncomfortable displacement of sand all over her world. Once we left our respective paradises, the boys no longer fit our lifestyles and Merissa and I reconnected while trying to evacuate the Crazy Train. The solution was much like being flipped off those sea doos when we were little girls, you let go once it gets too rough and hope the landing won't hurt too bad. It would have hurt a lot more if she hadn't been there to point to a soft landing spot.
Spring into the future and it's today. Merissa and I aren't cleaning latrines anymore, or dating crazies, and I'll be a monkey's aunt once-removed if I'm getting anywhere near that girl and a sea doo. Those two little girls from Meadow Lake Elementary are in college but we're still the same goofy kids. I love that girl like a fat vegetarian kid loves double soy-bacon boca cheeseburgers after a long, hard nap. She's ridiculous like I am and so much fun that sometimes my abs hurt from laughing after spending time with her. This year my best friend from kindergarten and I are making each other Easter baskets and there's no one I'd rather be spending my Easter with than her.