Some family friends of ours came to visit this evening and stay the night, and it’s been wonderful. Their older daughter, Beth, was part of our neighborhood gang in D.C. It’s strange to think how many years have passed since we spent every free moment hanging out with each other, and how quickly we can now fall back into our old patterns.
Dinner was spent laughing over pizza, remembering all the time we spent biking in the park (It only occurs to me know that we did this without any parental supervision or cellphones on bumpy trails and tended to end up playing in creeks five miles from home.), dressing up and reenacting the Little House on the Prairie books, and playing very intense, long games of hide and go seek (I once spent close to an hour on the top shelf of a closet covered in carefully arranged folded sweaters). We would show up at each others’ houses to eat lunch unannounced with alarming frequency, and I was always in the process of writing and directing a play or musical or choreographing a dance show for us to perform. In the fall, we would make fairy houses out of mud, flowers, and sticks, and in the winter we would go sledding on a hill that dead ended onto a very busy street. We were never without a playmate or something crazy to do.
Sometimes I’d do anything to be eleven again.