The conclusion to Brenda's story can wait. It's exactly 202a as I write (type) this out on my phone, like most of my other blogs, and I cannot seem to fall asleep, so here's an honest-to-(your deity) blog.
Earlier today, I was helping The Mechanic fix the brakes on my SUV. Well, I was mostly watching, since I know fuck all about cars, but I helped when I could. During a point where I was feeling particularly useless, I sat on the tailgate of his truck and immediately zoned out.
I began getting swarmed with memories of the early years, when my mum and I first moved to this city. If I recall correctly, it was just before my fifth birthday, and I remember feeling perfectly split down the middle as far as how I felt about it.
On the one hand, I wasn't too concerned about making new friends, because I wasn't too keen on people my own age anyway. Obviously there were exceptions to the rule, but for the most part, I felt fine with not knowing too many people.
At the same time, I was moving so far away from the two exceptions to that rule. A set of twin boys. My first friends. We bonded over Thomas the Tank Engine and when the first Power Rangers movie came out in theatres, we would run around saying the villain's name in a more exaggerated tone than he said it at one point: "Ivan OoooOOOOoooze." We were the cool kids.
(Ed. note: It doesn't have the same panache in text format. You really need to hear it said.)
Anyway, I was so sad to leave them, but at four years old, I didn't really have much say in the matter. Mum says "We're moving," I say, "Uh, okay," even though I'd rather have spent every single day with the two of them. Unfortunately for me, I don't really remember too much about that time in my life.
-their huge living room with train sets everywhere
-sitting at a coffee table with our Thomas the Tank Engine toys
-playing in/near a creek doing the Ivan Ooze bit
-playing in their front yard with a different kind of train toys
Within a week of moving here, I met another set of twins. My first exposure to boy/girl twins. They were (or are, really) five years older than I am. They and their father made me feel so incredibly welcome in their apartment across the street. I never met their mum, and I often dreamed of their dad and my mum getting together, but that never happened.
The next few years were absolutely incredible. I remember them initiating contact and just being so cool. They invited me over and introduced me to the Ninja Turtles movies. I again wanted nothing more than to spend every second of every day with them.
To be so readily accepted by total strangers, and at such a young age, despite the VAST gulf in our developments at the time simply blows me away, despite the significance having been lost on me back then. I began thinking of them as my older siblings. Sort of. I wanted to be so much like him when I grew up, and I wanted to be with her when I would eventually be old enough to do such things as dating. She was the first non-mum girl I was ever interested in.
(Also, I remember them fighting over who got to spend time with me at one point, early on.)
Being older, I seem to be able to recall some more memories with this set of twins, all of them I look back on ever so fondly.
-he taught me how to open a can of soda without popping the tab
-the look on her face when he was poking at me about my infatuation with her
-she made me look her in the eye during the TMNT movie and made me promise to tell them if we watched something I wasn't supposed to
-he helping me with my spelling homework, and the feeling of pride we shared when I finally realized I could spell "apartment"
-somehow getting spaghetti sauce on my forehead when they invited me over to dinner
All of these memories, and so much more, ran through my mind while The Mechanic fixed my brakes. I started crying. But then again, I'm also a big softie. I just couldn't help myself from reflecting and realizing just how much I've missed talking to them. All four of them.
I'm only in contact with her. Sort of. We're Facebook friends and maybe we haven't been the best of friends, but then again, so much time has passed and we're all so wildly different than we were back in those times, but I think I want to try to be her friend again.
Some things never change, though. I'm still obsessed with trains; I sometimes catch myself saying "Ivan Ooze" in the same manner; I still think of her while watching any of the live-action Ninja Turtle movies, and I still sometimes open a can without popoing the tab.
(I can also still spell apartment.)