When I was a young girl just turning five, I had two best friends.
Peter and Brandon.
Brandon had blue eyes and shaggy brown hair that danced with shadows in the front of his face. He had cluster of freckles on his nose and liked him, but not as much as Peter.
Peter couldn't talk like other people did, he called himself Peedit and he called me Catty. He had short hair and was skinny as a rake, or so my nan called it. He was my best friend in the entire world. Peter had brown eyes and had a big imagination.
I can't remember everything that me and Peter and Brandon did in our spare time but I remember a few things.
I remember that Peter and brandon would squish bumblebees with their bare hands. I would watch and run when the angry yellow fuzz balls chased us up and down the sides of my house.
I remember that we used to play a game called 'birdie', yes birdie. We would take turns being the bird and the hunters, running around my garden and then dying an agonizing death after a gunshot.
I remember the small woods that we played in behind my house, the treehouse older kids had built. I remember the next door neighbor who let us have fires and pick the blue berries in their side garden.
I remember not being sad when I had to move and leave the weeping willow in our garden or the babbling brook that we polluted with coloring book pages. I recall being up for the adventure of a new house and a new neighborhood, we would still be friends at school.
Unfortunately age is a factor that I did not consider.
To this day I still see Peter and Brandon, they pass me in the hallways. Brandon with his hoards of friends and Peter who smells of cigarette smoke. I still know both of them and they still know me, but I haven't said more than 'hi' to either of them in years.