"Youth is wasted on the young..."

I miss being young... I miss the carefree days when I didn't have a care in the world except friend drama or getting my homework done. I miss riding my bike with my friends and leaving in the morning and not coming back until dinnertime. Our house was on a huge lot that backed up to a creek and beyond that, open land with tons of trees. My best friend, Nancy and I used to climb those trees and look out over the houses to far, far away and dream about what we were going to do. We built forts in that back lot, and ours was the G.A.L.S. club, an acronym for each of our last names. My brother and his friends had forts too, and we would play 'army' and have wars against each other. On Halloween, we would go without parents for hours and hours, and when our bags were full, we would empty them and keep going. There was this one house where we had to sing to this elderly lady, and then she would give us money. We dreaded/looked forward to her house every year. Our moms had station wagons (actually all moms in the neighborhood did), but Nancy's mom had a Vista Cruiser with windows on the roof for us in the back seat. It's still one of my favorite cars.

In the summers, her mother would take us to Fort Sam's Officer Club pool, which started my love of the military. It was just cool to go on base seeing all those perfect stucco buildings that all looked the same and all the men in uniform. On the fourth of July, her parents would take us back to the base with blankets and ice chests, and we would lay down and watch the fireworks and the stars and hold our ears and laugh.

I can remember like yesterday when Nancy was on her green bike and I was on my blue one, and she said "I'm never going to wear a bra" as if to say, I'm never going to grow up. I totally agreed. It's also crystal clear in the sixth grade at the bridge near our house, when we decided from that day forward that we were just too old for dolls, and we never played with them again. We rode our bikes to school together, and after school, we got ice cream every day from the ice cream truck, and then drove home with the wind in our faces. At Nancy's house, one time her granny locked us out of the house, and we laughed and laughed, trying to 'break in.' We took ballet together, and on the way home, her mom took us to Dairy Queen for ice cream every time.

At the end of sixth grade, Nancy's family moved to California, closing a chapter in my life. It's still one of my worst memories...It was my birthday, and I chased their station wagon as it drove away, out of my life. I cried and cried...Life would never be the same... good, but never the same. And Nancy and I stayed great friends all these years. We will see each other, every other year usually, and find that we shop at the same stores and have similar taste. And of course all of our stories...

And my youngest daughter now takes ballet classes...

and I still reward myself with some ice cream every now and then....