when i was little, me and my sister used to go around and play with the son and daughter of my dad's friend. there was a boy, who was my age, and a girl, who was nearly my sisters age. we spent a lot of time with them, they were probably our main friends. we used to play with their pets, play board games, make tapes, and we invented a lot of games too. then, as we grew up, that stopped, we all became teenagers, and we stopped going around to play. when i started going to college, i realised this boy was starting at the same college as me. on my very first day, the very first room i had to go to for registration, he was in too. i wasn't expecting that, so i looked down, and sort of pretended i hadn't seen him. i passed him one day, and i nearly smiled, and i nearly said hi, but he looked right through me. as i saw him around the place, i noticed he smoked... how could this be the same boy who used to sleep over on my bedroom floor? the same bedroom that i am in even now? is this really the same boy who i played cluedo with, in the attic? or murder in the dark on winters nights? it seems strange to think all those memories must surely be in his head as clearly as they are in mine, and yet we walk past each other like strangers. this year, he is in my art class. i spent 5 and a half hours a week in the same room as him, but we still don't speak, or smile, or even say hi. perhaps he doesn't realise that the reason i at first bent my head and pretended not to see him, and the reason i continue to not make eye contact is because i am shy, and because he seems to have changed, not because i am proud. perhaps the reason he doesn't talk to me is because it is as obvious to him as it is to me that we have both changed and are not the same as the kids we were. and he has his own friends so he doesn't need the company of the strange girl who sits at the back of the class and doesn't talk to anyone.
i suppose i should be sadder about this loss than i am. the truth is, i find it quite interesting to think about how we have grown apart, but not really that sad. strange how we choose to ignore our past. strange the gulf between childhood and now.