Memories Tuesday

In the sandbox with my friend, a boy, when we were about 4, maybe 5. The sandbox outside the Syracuse apartment, so I wouldn't have been older than 5.

I've forgotten my friend's name, but not what I was doing that afternoon -- trying to talk him into leaning over the edge of the sandbox, far enough so that I could give him a shove and he'd lose his balance and fall face first into the sand.

Why I would want that, I have no idea. He was a good little friend and we played together all the time. Maybe it was that little bit of BAD that's in every kid, or the beginning of winner/loser struggles you find on every playground. Whatever it was, the leaning over wasn't happening -- he wasn't biting. No way was he going to lean over on his own -- so I decided I would show him how, give him an example of what I wanted. I set my tanned little knees on the edge of the sandbox, and felt the grains of sand under my palms, and leaned ever so slightly over --

And fell face first in the sand! Because he pushed me! There were instant tears, and a feeling, not of rage, but of utter indignation -- that he had beat me to it. That he had probably known all along what I was planning, and used it against me.

By the time the sun set we were side by side in the sandbox again -- I'd probably been sent back out after dinner, been told just to make friends again and get it over with. I remember that it was such a good feeling to not be mad at each other anymore. And also, that I wasn't ever going to let anyone get me like that again.