You probably wouldn't guess it knowing me now, but just like so many other preschool girls, I wanted to be a ballerina. It's fuzzy, and I'm sure my mom will correct me on the things I get wrong here. But these are my first memories of friendship.
We were in preschool together, and our moms would take turns carpooling us to the instructor's house. It wasn't a dance studio, but someone's basement. I guess we would arrive there later than the other girls, and we needed to change into our leotards and tights. The two of us would be in the ballet teacher's bathroom, by ourselves, and I guess it must have taken us a while to complete this task. After all, we couldn't have been more than four or five years old, and leotards and tights are complicated. But I'm pretty sure I was the good girl, ready to go, and my friend was the one taking forever. The instructor would yell up the basement stairs for us, and we would giggle endlessly, our first taste of getting in trouble.
Through synagogue, I knew that girl for most of my childhood, and we're Facebook friends even now, though I doubt she'll read this post. She and I were never really friends after preschool, even though we saw each other three times a week at Hebrew school. I always wondered if she remembered how we felt in those days, but I'm sure that she did. It was too late for our friendship though. I'd settled too far into a good girl role, and that didn't mesh with the little bit of a rebel in her. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I can still hear her laughing.
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A few of my blogging friends are also writing posts on the theme of friendship today. Links below!
The Napkin Hoarder: Making Friends
Red Shutters: Musings on Friendship
Another Version of a Mother: My Phone People
What makes a Real family: Make New Friends
A Wide Line: Friendship Squares
What a great story! I feel the same way about my first friend. We're worlds apart now, but we served a purpose for each other back then. I'm glad to be your friend now!
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