Day 17: A person from your childhood.

Dear a person from my childhood,

Being a kid is funny. All it takes to be friends is back yards that connect or living across the street, a mutual love of catching fish and crawdads, playing N64 and dress up, being invited to each other's birthday parties and sometimes vacations.

Being an adult (I use the term losely. I guess I mean being older. 16, 17, 18, 30.) is different. We think more. We judge more. We disqualify more. I'm not sure why.

I think it's just a part of growing up. Back then, it was all about fun and conveinence and learning. Learning not only how to do things, but things like how to socialize and how to care about other people and how to make it work. It's like learning how to share. And also, in that, I think you probably begin to learn who you are and who other people really are, and it becomes more complicated than just being back yard neighbors. You develop into you and sometimes that doesn't click with the them your best friend is growing up to be.

But that's ok. It's how it goes. Sometimes it works that you got lucky and guessed right to someone that ultimately developed to be like you, but other times you just have to be thankful for tree climbing and ice-cream-man -creaming and slip-n-sliding and lemonade-standing.

And I am. Thanks for being the best friends any kid could've asked for. Thanks for playing into my imagination, running wild with me, sharing secrets, helping me not be bored after school, coming to my birthday parties, seeing the ocean for the first time with me, planting silk flowers in the ground, phone calls, secrets, clubs, scrapes, teaching me how to be a friend, growing up with me, and helping me figure out the person I was to become.

We might be really different (or, you know, not even that much), and we might've gone different ways, but you helped make my childhood as happy as it was, and I couldn't think of a way to make it any better.

Thanks.
Lauren.