I miss Matt, my childhood friend
by Jason Alan
I really miss my childhood friend Matt. We lost touch when he moved away the summer after fifth grade. It was tough starting middle school without my best friend, who I had known literally since we were just babies. For a long time I’ve searched for him online but I haven’t found him yet. No myspace (back when people actually used it). No facebook. A google search has always led me to nowhere. It seems he has no online presence whatsoever. I guess I was too young to think about getting his address then. He told me he was moving to another state, so it just felt like he was going away forever, and I suppose he did.
It makes me wonder. Was I not a good friend to him? Was I not memorable? Why wouldn’t he try to find me? For many years we were inseperable. We had class together and then after school would hang out every day. All weekend we were by each other’s side.
We’re adults now, so I’m not expecting us to just go back to the way it used to be if we were to talk to each other again. I just want to reminisce over old times. Talk about all the fun we had growing up. Like the time we pulled the pants off that homeless guy and stuck an M-80 up his ass and lit it. He went to the hospital and he said it hurt every time he shit for a year! Ah, good times.
Or that time I had just got a brand new Polaroid camera for my birthday. I went to show him and saw him fornicating with his sister in the shed. So obviously I snapped some shots. We had some laughs over that one even before my black eye and the pain in my testicles went away.
I’m sure we would spend hours just about all those summer afternoons we would hang out at a field that some kids turned into a baseball diamond. We couldn’t afford baseballs but Miss Johnson sure had a lot of cats. It was just like that movie The Sandlot. Only different.
Yes, we’re adults now, but maybe we could recreate something from the past if we ever saw each other. Like when we would set up a tent in his back yard and our parents let us camp out in it. Just like the old days we could use a flashlight to read Mein Kampf to each other until we couldn’t stay up any longer.
I miss you, Matt. And if by some chance you’re reading this, I hope you leave a comment so we can talk again. But I guess you won’t know if I’m talking about you or not. There must be a million Matts who did that kind of stuff as a kid.