We Should Have Been Friends

When I was 5 years old, I found a friend to play with while my father was playing a softball game. We were the same age, and we were both wearing dresses and barrettes in our hair.

We were happy to have found each other, because a softball game lasts a really long time. We played on the swings, in the sandbox, and on the seesaw, giggling all day.

Later, when the players were taking a break, I went to see my dad, and she went to see her dad, who was on the opposing team.

Dad and I shared a turkey wedge with lettuce, tomato and mayo, my favorite. He had an RC Cola, and I had a Yoo-hoo. And of course, I had Twinkies for dessert. Always Twinkies.

Someone on our team came over and said teasingly, “I saw you! I saw you playing with that little black girl!”

“So?”

But he continued, “Yeah, I saw you playing with the little porch monkey.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound nice. And I think even someone else joined in too. And my dad just raised his eyebrows and nodded his head a little, not completely playing along with them, but not standing up for me either.

And I started to feel embarrassed, like I’d done something wrong.

When my dad’s team went back to the dugout, and her dad’s team went out on the field, she came over to the bench where I was sitting and sat down right next to me, ready to resume our games. I felt like I shouldn’t be seen with her, like they were all going to talk about me and laugh at me.

They might even point their fingers and say “I see you!”

So I moved away from her to the other side of the bench.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

But that was two lies in one. I did feel like playing some more. And something was very wrong.

It's a good thing we're not all destined to repeat the mistakes of our fathers.

So to the little girl on the bench at the park, with the pretty little barrettes in her hair, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’ve remembered you my whole life, but I hope you don’t remember me.