The Curliest Things

Memories pt. 2

From the time I was maybe 13, until shortly before I turned 16, my two best friends were Tara and Clara. The three of us were inseparable.

Let me tell you, I mourn that kind of closeness. I mourn it. We’re all too closed off from each other as adults. But when you’re a kid and a teenager, you give yourself completely to friendships, soul laid bare, and there’s a kind of pure, total acceptance that washes from them over to you covering even your darkest corners.

That’s the kind of friendship the three of us had.

This was in Prague, and we were all TCKs- third culture kids, meaning kids growing up in a foreign country, not quite fitting in with the natives, but not fitting in in our home countries either. We fit in anywhere and nowhere. We’re adaptable, we can navigate other cultures, our parents’ one included, and “pass” like a native, but really it’s not home. Nowhere is. It’s lonely, but other TCKs “get it.”

We were all TCKs, but from very different backgrounds. I was a missionary kid, Clara’s dad worked at the Spanish Embassy, and Tara’s dad was in the oil business.

Somehow, we were magic together. We called ourselves the “Curliest Things.” It made perfect sense to us at the time- curly meant wild and spontaneous, curly was unconstrained joy and mischief.

It came about somehow relating to hair. I believe we’d been talking about the beautiful, tightly coiled curly hair one of Clara’s darker skinned Spanish friends had. We just agreed completely that curly embodied free spirited perfection. It was like that elation Ramona felt when she “boinged” her classmate’s curls. Though we all three were straight-haired brunettes, we knew, in spirit, we were absolutely the Curliest Things. And we used the adjective “curly” freely to describe things that were just quintessentially…curly!

We also developed monikers and little mascots for ourselves. I was Snek, (pronounced shnek), which means snail in Czech. Something about the way a snail can hide but then poke its head out and be ridiculous just fit. Clara was Giga, pronounced yeed-dya with a heavy Castillian accent. I’m not sure if it was a real word, but for us it referred to a cute little hamster (pronounced khamstehr because..that’s how Clara said it with her accent). Tara was Chiquita Banana, pronounced in sing song Chiquita Ba-naaaa-nah! Chiquita Ba-naaaa-nah! Chiquita Ba-naaaa-nah! (yes three times, and it was from a commercial we thought was very “curly”).

We scribbled our little emblem all over our notebooks and papers at school. A snek, a giga, and a chiquita banana encircled by a ribbon of curls (think tight loops over and over encircling our little mascots).

Our language and interactions were a cultural mishmash. We kissed hello (Spain), some words we used in Spanish, Czech, or English, or with one of the above accents. We said “as well” constantly (Tara’s dad was British and they say that instead of “too” but also just kind of all the time as a filler).

And we slept over each other’s houses a lot. Laying snuggled in bed together giggling and talking late into the night is one of my favorite things to remember. I just remember that feeling of pure happiness and best friend closeness.

Sometimes only two of us could sleep over, and not all three. When it was just me and Tara, it was our normal, beautiful platonic best friends kind of snuggling in her bed until we fell asleep. But when I slept over Clara’s and it was just us, we would spoon tightly, and I remember how perfect she felt in a way that wasn’t completely platonic. It was very innocent, just feelings I didn’t really understand at first. But when we held each other it felt different than when I snuggled with Tara, and we curled our bodies around each other more sensually.

I did discover I was bisexual as a teen, but looking back I’ve always wondered if she was. Spanish people are very physically affectionate and it’s totally “straight” behavior for them, but when Clara and I were alone it always felt a little more. Maybe that was just the perception on my end though.

In any case, the Curliest Things marked the end of my childhood and the transition to the teen years. I will always miss the innocent mischief and perfect sisterhood we had together.

 

 

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The dog and the chocolate croissant

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Chocolate croissants, top left, in a Czech bakery

I’ve decided to start sharing some of my favorite memories. I feel like droning on about my life and times is kind of narcissistic, but as I’ve been catapulted into the winter of my life prematurely, I think I’ve earned the right to it. And because people feel bad for me, they’ll force themselves to sit here and read it (teasing..but really :)).

There are some very early memories that are mostly mundane but somehow my mind clings to them, turning them over from time to time like well loved dog eared photographs. I have a specific one where I must have been about three and my mom carried me downstairs while I was sick and held me in the rocking chair and rocked me. Just this little snippet but it’s so drenched in feelings of warmth and safety.

But this post features me as a third grader in a little village outside of Prague called Hostivice, where we lived. Every day on my way home from school I scrounged up enough change to buy a croissant from the bakery. Back then these things cost what amounted to fractions of a cent.

And everyday I’d stop at a small gated property. Just through the gaps I could see a dog, and he was always there, all day, locked in the small cobbled front behind the tall gate. He was scruffy and scraggly and wary.

He growled at me at first. I got it in my head that he was mistreated, or perhaps simply neglected, and my heart ached for him. So I began sitting down on the other side of the gate, talking to him quietly while I ate my croissant and passing him small pieces. The gate was mostly solid, the metal gone green with age. But there were a few round and slanting decorative gaps through which I could see him and pass him some croissant.

Over time he began to trust me. He would wait for me at the gate expectantly, and a few times he even jumped up so I could briefly feel the swipe of his tongue through the gaps. I fell in love with him.

Worried over his skinniness, I began saving my change more carefully so I could buy two croissants, and give him one of them to eat all himself. (I should add that my child self would have been horrified to learn that chocolate is harmful for dogs.)

One day I arrived at the gate and he wasn’t there like he should have been. Dread churned in my gut but I told myself he’d be there the next day. But he wasn’t. For weeks he wasn’t. Then one morning I came to the gate and a fluffy little black puppy was there, yipping at me manically.

I understood then that my dog wasn’t coming back and it hurt.

I never paused at the gate again.

Looking back as an adult I don’t think the dog was neglected or starved, I think he was just old, and one day he died. Peacefully I hope, dreaming of chocolate croissants.

He was a companion and confidant. Even though I never got to pet him or even get a full unobstructed look at him. I loved him in that way a child can love a dog and I still think of him.

Walk to Defeat ALS

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Me and Reza

Hey all! I know I haven’t posted a new entry in a while and that’s because life. 🙂 But I wanted to share that me and my family are going to a local ALS walk and raising money to support research, equipment, and services through the ALS Association in Massachusetts. The ALSA has helped me with things like loaner equipment, paying for a wheelchair ramp for our home, grants to help with costs related to living with ALS, and emotional support. They are also one of the sponsors for Hope Loves Company, otherwise known as Camp HLC, a sleep away camp for children who have a parent with ALS.

You can support me in the Walk by donating or, if you’re anywhere near central MA, joining my team and walking with us!

This is my page for the Walk: HERE   To donate, click the link and then click the red “donate to me” link under my name.

This is our team page: HERE    To walk with us, click the red “join our team” link and fill out the registration.

Thanks!