On my birthday every year my "oldest best friend" David Day, calls me. I grew up in a neighborhood where my sister and I were the only girls. The rest were boys all around my same age. True to form, David called me this year on my birthday and made my day special again.
David was the kind of kid who was raw and honest. He was quiet, shy and wanted to please everyone. He was darn good looking too, with a head full of blond hair, blue, blue eyes and was bigger than most boys his age. We would run around the fields between our houses, ride bareback on one of our horses through the orange groves, pull off stalks of wheat heads and throw handfuls at each other to see who could get the most to stick to the other. One kid had a trampoline. We dubbed him "Eric-wash-his-hands" One time we were all jumping on it and another boy named Kelly, with a mouth full of braces, wanted on and started to drag me off. He accidently (really, this is true) touched my rather womanly chest (NOT, I think we were 12), and I accused him of doing it on purpose. After a rather heated discussion, I had to defend myself and punched him in the mouth. Remember I told you he had braces? Well I still bear the scar on the upper nuckle of my right middle finger. Tore the skin right off. What a nice young lady I was, eh? Thanksgiving day David and Kelly came to our house. Both were wearing clean, nice clothes and had obviously just taken showers. Their hair had that wet, just combed over to the side, look that all boys do. They brought me cards that said "Happy Thanksgiving!" and had something funny inside. My whole family was there, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I got teased throughout the rest of the night about the boys who came to visit.
His parents had gotten a divorce, and he was living with his father and the new wife. In my kid's mind his step mom took a LOT out on David. She had had three little boys on her own and was in that "young mom" stage in her life. A hard time for any mother. Throw in a boy who is not her own and you've got the makings of the "evil step-mom" come to life. That woman could scream and didn't hesitate to yell at David in front of me. I know that David would be embarassed, but we'd just go and hide out in his room or up in the hills at this cool spot we found in the shade under some trees with a stream running by it. We had "crushes" on each other, but nothing ever came of it. When David was 15, and I was 14, he decided to move to away to Northern California to live with his mom. I was devestated. It wasn't fair.
In 1988, I was moving to an apartment close to Biola, where I went to college, and he was down visiting his Dad. He helped me move in. I was shocked at what he looked like. HUGE, muscle-man, football player HUGE! This kid I grew up with, was now no kid. This was a man.
Skip forward 3 years. My wedding day to Byron. David was there. He found me sitting in my parent's living room where I had retreated to sit, take my shoes off and escape the 600 plus guests in the backyard around the pool and on the dance floor. I couldn't smile anymore, I wasn't hungry, and I just really wanted it to all be over at that point. David had a little too much to drink and told me that I was the one who got away. That he should have been the one to marry me. Oh boy... I didn't know what to say. My parents later told me that later he did the same with them. My mom cried and then David cried a little. My dad shook his hand. This was the dirty sweaty, kid who would spend hours with us, our family, in our house. Here was a man, now.
What memories. I'm having a hard time writing this. It is a remembrance of my childhood and a COOL, COOL friend.
David called me today. I am 38.
