I remembered that Butchy and I liked to play with our toy guns, acting like cowboys and rustlers. Butchy had not seen my last pair of six-shooters so maybe he would want to play guns? I also had a toy 30-06 hunting rifle with a scope on it. Maybe he would like to shoot that? We had special sounds we made that no one else mimicked; they were “our sounds” when we played. Of course, since Butchy had not been around, I had not used the sounds and had to try to remember how to do it. I had also not played guns since moving to the new neighborhood. The truth is that I had become a girl since Butchy last saw me… you know the kind that plays tennis instead of football and has a ton of stuffed animals on her bed instead of the baseball game stored under it. But, of course, Butchy would not know that about me. Would he think I was just the same as when he last saw me?
I showed Butchy my latest pistols and leather holster, as well as the rifle. We played a while with them and I tried to use the sounds we had articulated when playing guns in the past. I was surprised, but relieved, when Butchy made comment on the sounds.
“Are you still making those sounds? I don’t do that anymore.”
“Actually, no, I don’t. I had to try to remember how to do it because you were coming to play.” It was a tense moment or two as we both realized that things were just not the same. Yes, he had also grown away from what we thought of as fun when our ages had only one digit. I can’t even say we had a good time of catching up with what each one had done since he moved away from the neighborhood. One thing had not changed: Butchy was, still, not much of a talker! I was very relieved, as well as a little sad, when Butchy and Suzie drove away with their mother that day. I would never forget the wonderful memories we shared as children but, the fact was, they were over and both of us had moved on. Hey, Butchy, thanks for the memories!
****Have a great weekend!