In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Imaginary Friend.”
I never had an imaginary friend. My childhood was filled with moments were I tried to act older than my age to fit in with my siblings. Maybe my childhood imagination was fogged up by where I wanted to be and not where I was. And my imaginary friend had no time to be created or step into my life and share my lonely moments with me.
Thinking back now, I probably would have had a better childhood with an imaginary friend. I would have learned to accept my childish behaviors and play with Barbie dolls instead of trying to paint my nails, do my hair, and be in conversations I did not understand. My upstairs neighbor was one of my best friends. She use to come to my house all the time. We went to the same elementary school so we would walk to school and back together. I remember the first day we got to walk to school by ourselves, we felt so grown. Then high school came and we became a little distant, and the college came and we rarely talk. It amazes me how feeling grown turned into distance. I think of her and wonder what she is doing, how she is, and what she has been through. We probably have been through so much separately we may not recognize each other looking from the inside out.
But, she is still my neighbor and one of my greatest memories. When I see her, it is like we never left each other, like we speak every day. It is like we are back to elementary walking and feeling grown. Except we are in college walking the streets of life feeling like times were better as kids, regretting wishing for moments of where we wanted to be.