Hi readers,
See that picture above? That’s me on my dad’s arm, peeking out from behind my mom, and that’s Grandpa Maurice and Grandma Catherine in front of the only home where my mom and dad and I lived together as a family. My parents bought the house when it was new for $17,000. I was born in 1971. By 1977, they were divorced, the house sold.
I have fond memories from that house, despite how little I was when I lived there. Riding my bike around the cul de sac and that feeling of freedom and independence! Splashing in my baby pool in the backyard. Carrying cats awkwardly and putting them in baby carriages. (We had five white Persian cats in that house!) Getting bit on the cheek by our dog, a Lhasa Apso named Sumi, who was regrettably sleeping on my pillow. (Not a fond memory, per se, but a memory nonetheless.)
My first best friend, Christine, lived across the street. For my birthday, her little brother wrapped up one of their dad’s commemorative plaques and gave it to me. (Mom made me give it back!) After Dad moved out and my future stepdad moved in, Christine convinced me one afternoon to get naked and run out to the living room singing Mary Had a Little Lamb. That was a memorable enough experience to burn into my brain. At her house, Christine would make us friend bologna. When her family moved out of state, we exchanged addresses but lost touch.
Lynette would become my next best friend. When I started school my parents arranged a carpool with a neighborhood family. After the divorce, I’d spend more time at her house than I did my own. We both attended the Montessori Children’s Academy in Downey. (That school is worth its own essay some other time.) Mom would drop me off at Lynette’s before sunrise and pick me up around dinner time. We’d play Barbies on the white shag rug. I remember my perfume factory toy and can still smell the overwhelming sickly sweet scent of all those fragrances mixed up together. It was in that house that I took a bite out of my Coca Cola lip balm because it tasted good. There was no homework in those days so Lynette and I would just run up and down the stairs or goof off in the bonus room. Sometimes I’d get lucky and her family would include me in dinner. If I wasn’t lucky, Lynette would be in charge of snacks and make warm Strawberry Quik. (I don’t think I ever told her that I didn’t like it.) We stayed in touch off and on through high school, even after my family moved to Moreno Valley, but then she went away to UCSB and I moved to Virginia and that was that.
In all these years, I’d never been back to that house.
Last weekend, my husband and I were doing a little more #bookstoretourism which took us to Once Read Books in Long Beach and then to Gum’s Antique Mall in Hawaiian Gardens. In our travels, I spotted a sign that read “Welcome to Cerritos” and when I checked, I realized we were really close so we did a drive by.
Yes, I had to take pictures. (With silent apologies to the current occupants of the house.) The paint color is updated and there are new windows, but it’s still the house. We also did a drive by of Lynette’s house. So many memories!
And here I am with Lynnette one Halloween. The punk rocker and the witch.
(Yes, my mom made the costume, per my specifications.)
I loved this shared memory so much! Our childhood friends are important in so many ways. Although we don’t know it at the time, if we are lucky, we don’t just have great times playing games, role playing, or just being silly— we learn how to navigate our future lives as teens and adults. Even ( and maybe especially) learning to live with and process losses. We learn we can move forward and onto new relationships. Our first friends remain precious in our hearts. Maybe not thought about often, but still there. They also carry our secrets, and us, theirs. I am so glad you made this pilgrimage and that the houses did not change all that much. Thank you for this sweet reminiscence and the great photos.