I haven't seen Eva since then, haven't heard a word from her, know nothing of what became of her. Eva and I met in grade 2 at Immaculata Elementary School in St. Laurent. We were both new immigrants and if memory serves me, she was Polish. Two little girls, new to the ways of Canada.
She might have had a brother, but now I'm really pushing the limits of my memory.
When I moved to the "suburbs" after our brief friendship, there was no way to keep in touch. It was the sixties, things were different and families did not travel for distances to allow their children to maintain play-dates.
As time went on Eva grew sweet and small in my mind. But now at the age that we are, you start to remember things that meant something to you, even if you were just a child.
A birthday party at the apartment where I lived, a velvet dress, walking together to school alone for many blocks. A girl named Karen Smith who took great delight in pushing me on the ice my first winter and Eva getting mad at her.
All of us in our tunics and white blouses.
Lorraine, and Brenda, cousins Patti and someone who even then was considered noticeably pretty, Maureen and an Italian girl who stood out almost as much as me. And if you remember them, they had an impact.
Do you still have photos of people who you knew years ago? (Tweet This)
Do you wonder what became of them?
It's worth the time to remember. Because these people, even if it was in grade two, had an effect in creating who I became. Such tiny pieces of memories that formed a host of stories that I tucked away for safe-keeping.
If Eva reads this, I want her to know that I remember her. That although decades have passed and she likely wouldn't remember me now, she really was my best friend back then too.
Take some time and sit. Think back. Remember, it's all inside of you. Smile at the story of your first best friend. (Tweet This)
Now tell me about your old photos and what they mean to you. I'd love to know for a future post.
Keep looking. When you find it, make it better. ©