I remember quite a bit from when I was really small. But I think I might have been about two years old when I first met my best childhood friend. I might have made up the whole memory or it might be that we didn’t meet for the first time just then, but this is what I remember.
We are on a walk next to the fence that surrounds the racetrack next to our yard of rowhouses. It’s a sunny Spring beforenoon and probably a weekend because my dad’s there. My brother is hogging the stroller for some reason even though he’s a year and a half older than me. My mum’s pushing the stroller. The light is that golden one that only happens in memories in films and when you can’t quite remember what it smelled like in those in your own head. I imagine there was a bit of frost in the air, yet the coltsfeet were out. The mud that inevitably followed the melting snow was frozen on the surface too. We meet another stroller next to a little patch of wood and a small golden haired girl is holding onto it. We skip the formalities and continue hand in hand together along the road, glancing at frozen puddles and smiling just because it’s nice to have a friend.
As to why I remember it, it’s probably because she was my first friend. My brother is just that bit older and has always been that much of a hazard that it took me a long while to learn to walk because I always sat down when he got near me. We stayed best friends until about 3rd grade and were still in the same group of friends for years. She now has two kids and lives in the capital. According to her Instagram 🙂