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A Blustery Day

March 14, 2010

Today is rainy and blustery–I just had lunch with my longest-standing friend. We met in grade two, and now we’re 37. Her daughter is now only two years younger than we were when we met, which is pretty amazing. I remember playing together in grade two. I remember posters we drew about dinosaurs, and sandwiches we ate. My friend was vegetarian, even back then, and swore her peanut butter and cheese sandwiches were cheddar with mouse guts, to make us shut up about how much cooler we were for bringing bologna. I remember games from recess back in grade one, which means her daughter will also remember the things she’s doing these days, thirty-two years from now.

This morning, we lunched at a great place near my apartment, and rain blasted against the huge wall of glass we were seated beside. Like dining behind the windshield in a fancy carwash.

I remember collecting worms in dry plastic pails and housing them indoors until the storm subsided and the grass sopped up enough water that we figured the worms would do ok, not end up mashed on the pavement like tiny twigs that instead of rolling, crushed pink beneath our sneakers and made us shout, “Sorry! Oh man, sorry!” as we made our way, beneath umbrellas, to the fast-moving creek at the park. Today, I tugged on my stylish new black rainboots, all the urban ladies are sporting these things, which look just like the ones my friend and I were teased for wearing in 1981.

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