We are still children

Lately I've been in contact with many friends I haven't had the opportunity to speak to in a while. These are friends from every corner of my life. Some are from childhood, others from my teens, still others stem from the beginnings of my corporate career.

Yesterday, I chatted with a friend I've had since I was two. Neither of us remembers this. It's one of those fairy tales that parents tell. "You gals first met when you were two and she was six months old. You played like you were sisters."

We both remember the first time we saw each other six years later - in a MacDonalds in opposite lines. Our fathers just happened to treat us to a Happy Meal in the same restaurant, on the same day, exact same hour, different line. We were inseparable for 10 years.

As I talked on the cell phone, I admired the architecture around me, the people who walked by, the college students gathering in nearby pubs. Then I realized that my childhood friend and I were talking just as we did when we were little. Those girls who hid in the nooks of an old Victorian, who giggled at the dumbest jokes, who passed notes through the hallways even when it was forbidden by our parents. Those little girls who, no matter what, stood by each other and made sure that the other one was safe and sound and protected even when our own parents couldn't save us. Those girls were on the phone, their voices elevated in laughter, the tone flippant and valley.

For a second I wondered where those girls had gone. Were they hiding within us, waiting for the opportunity to come out and tickle each other's hearts once more? Had they been hiding underneath the exterior of a soulful singer and a corporate career woman? Even though our lives have branched into different worlds, ones that I'm not sure even we understand, those little girls still remain intact, waiting for the next chance to be released from their hiding places.