perils with writing and whatnot
I’m writing this post from two different prompts and I found at Writing.Com.
Sometimes it’s so inconceivable how friendships are formed. The way I became friends with Linda was typical. Girl moves into neighborhood. Girl up the street notices her. Girl from up the street walks down to the new girl’s house. They become friends. Definitely run of the mill stuff. And she was my best friend for the entire time I was in elementary school.
I didn’t have a best friend again until I was a junior in high school. I wasn’t friendless all those years in between. I just couldn’t get that special connection going with anyone. The friends I entertained during those between years didn’t know the way I felt about anything in my life. I kept all of that hidden.
Something So Strong
Tell us the origin story of your best friend. How did you become friends? What is it that keeps your friendship rockin’ after all these years?
It happens: sometimes that filter in our head bursts and we say too much of what we’re thinking and someone gets hurt. Tell us about a time you or someone you know said something that they immediately regretted.
I met Glenda at the home of a guy I knew from the pool at Eisenhower Park. It was late September of my junior year in high school. Often I would go see one or more of the kids from the pool after the last class of the day if I wasn’t working at the insurance company where I had a part -time job. You see, most of those kids lived in the next school district from mine.
The guy I was visiting that day was Skeeter. He had good reason to be called that, as silly as it was. It fit him better than Carroll. During that era, which was before the TV show, In the Heat of the Night starring Carroll O’Connell, to be called Carroll meant you were probably labeled as a sissy. Only girls had the name Carol (notice the difference in spelling). Skeeter was eighteen and out of high school. He, actually, was a low scum bum. His mom worked two jobs while Skeeter worked none. In my book, he was worthless trash.
So why did I hang around him at all? I was dating one of his closest friends, Danny. Danny wasn’t anything like Skeeter. He was a senior in high school, had a part-time job working for a mechanic and was always there to help his mom and dad. I hadn’t a clue as to why he considered Skeeter a friend at all, but that’s the way it was.
Skeeter’s new girlfriend was there that day, Glenda. She was only fourteen, a freshman attending the junior high just minutes away from the high school. She was a skinny little thing. At least that’s the way I thought of her despite the fact that she stood a little taller than me. Her body development was minimal, which caused me to wonder why someone eighteen would be interested in her. Maybe Skeeter thought he could dominate over her easier. Anyway, I felt some fear for this girl. I thought, for sure, that she was in way over her head in that relationship. I had known Skeeter for a couple of years already, and I had a pretty good idea of what he was all about.
After Danny and I left Skeeter’s house, we headed over to his house. On the ride there, I told Danny about my misgivings about Glenda being with his friend. Being the friend that he was to the scumbag, he told me that there was nothing we could do because it was their business and not ours. I left the matter closed after that unknowing that Danny told Skeeter about my concern. Danny didn’t know it would get back to Glenda just as I didn’t know either.
Glenda was not happy about what I had said. She cornered me a couple of days later and asked me to take a walk with her. As we walked, she told me how she felt about what I had said to Danny, keeping a level head and not even raising her voice. The girl was older than her years. I ended up apologizing to her. Believe it or not, she accepted my output of regret and we became friends right then and there.
It didn’t take long for us to become best friends. It got so that when we weren’t in school or doing homework, we were together doing something. Often there would be four of us, which would also include Chris and Charley.
Our friendship did finally fizzle seven years later. She was divorced from her husband who was another friend of the scumbag. She decided she needed to get away from Colorado and moved to Florida. Somehow writing each other never took place.
Where irrationality trumps reason
Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers. - Isaac Asimov
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