Time.
When I was a wee lass, I knew a wee lad. In my hazy child's memory, he was awkward and funny looking. His mother was a family friend. I played games with his sister, and together we bossed him about as older girls in positions of power over younger boys sometimes do. Then, I left town and lost touch.
I talked to him a year or so ago on the phone, trying to coordinate a mini-reunion with his sister. She lives down south now, but was coming up to visit him and friends. His voice had deepened to an astonishing baritone and he'd shot up, I was told, to nearly six-and-a-half feet. He reminded me I had taught him to tie his shoes when others had failed. I had no recollection of it. I was stricken, as I sometimes am, by sadness that I do not remember more of my childhood. I moved so many times that I think, at some point, I just gave up trying to hold the images of each place, each little life, in my mind. It was such a small thing, teaching him that, but I was irritated I'd lost the kind of memory people who grow up with roots would have.
Anyway. I just got a forwarded email from my mother, who got a link from his.
Behold, that little boy, all grown up.
(Edited--I just realized all his contact info was up on that site. I'm taking the link down to protect his privacy. Maybe I can find other, non-contact-info-displaying pix online later. Sorry!)Hot dang. Be nice to your friends' siblings, girls and boys. You never know how they may turn out.
Happy Tuesday ;D
posted by Sid @ 7/11/2006 02:13:00 AM
4 Comments:
Um, damn he is foine!! Freakin' eye candy fo dayyyyyssssss!!! Plus creative, artistic and intelligent to boot. Total package. Be nice indeed.
oh my. i especially like the last photo.
i must now go walk off the tingle in my legs.
LOL
re: memories... i think its just as special that someone has a memory of you. think... everytime this gorgeous man ties his shoelaces .hhmmmm...
holy be-jebus..-who let him have those genes! he's purdy--i think that just might get me through what will prove to be a not so fun tuesday.
i lived in the same house, on the same street, in the same town until i was 17--i remember so very little about my childhood and what i do remember i certainly wish i didn't, they're not happy memories. i always wish i could remember the fun times more and the bad times so much less, not sure why it's the other way around.
No fair I missed all the fun. Myspace it to me. Or email it to me. Or bring out the 8x10 glossies out to Phoenix and we'll do sushi while you're here.
And please, I have a horrible memory, too. My brother is much better than I am and reminds me of stuff all the time. I'm sure you have memories of folks that they can't recall, either. Brains can only hold so much, my dear Sid!
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