Memories and Wonderings

I’ve thought hard and long about this week’s post. I just wasn’t sure, like usual. But I kept thinking about something; I kept thinking about a person I’ve not seen in about four years. I grew up with this kid and he was one of my best friends before middle school. I wonder periodically what he’s doing with his life, how much he’s changed, if he remembers me at all. Even when we weren’t friends, we were around each other somehow, be it his girlfriends/my friends, classes, or just the fact that Molalla is small. I know I have him on Facebook, but Facebook is a scary place.

I wrote a poem about him. It’s about this one memory my mother never lets me forget. I called it Digging for Moles.


Digging in my new jumper,
Shoving my arm down dark holes,
Giggling with my best friend,
Looking for moles.
Blonde hair, brown eyes,
Mischievous smiles,
The aide finds us after thinking us lost,
As we look for moles.
Campfire, birthday parties, middle school,
Chickens, girlfriends, high school.
He was once my best friend,
And why we dug for moles.
I still remember him, my best friend,
He was important and yet we changed.
Even though we drifted apart,
I still remember digging for moles.

If you haven’t guess by now what was happening, in elementary school, this person and I would stick our arms down holes, looking for something. One day, the recess aide came looking for us and reported it to my mom, because she thought we had gotten lost somewhere.

Yeah… he just got his own serious poem, and I don’t think he’ll ever know.


2 thoughts on “Memories and Wonderings

  1. That’s such a nice memory, even if it’s a little bittersweet as well. I do wonder sometimes about my childhood friends, most of whom I have lost touch with since I moved to Socal when I was 5. When I got to college though, I actually reunited with one of them through a series of coincidences (she was acquainted with my roommate who then introduced us and I recognized her). Although we both changed quite a bit and our friendship never went back to what it was when we were 5, having that memory is still something I value even now.
    Who cares if your friend doesn’t know he just got his own poem? 😉 You remember and I think that’s what should matter.

    • Aw, that’s nice to hear! 🙂 There’s always something nice about meeting up with an old friend you haven’t seen in years, isn’t there?
      I suppose that’s true, but I just never write serious poems for anybody else — I certainly don’t post them!

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