Dani and I started our after-dark walking ritual shortly after the accident last year. We chose after dark because I was worried to see people I knew and knowing they knew the worst thing that can happen to a woman happened to me and even worse, they'd ask about it as they tried to avoid looking straight into the horrendous gaping wound on my forehead. Nevertheless, we've been walking at night fairly regularly throughout the entire year. And a lot of weird things have happened during those night walks (I'm not even going to mention--well, okay, I will in passing--the guinea pig running loose through the streets that bit a chunk out of my finger or the night all the cats were racing through the neighborhood after visible mice).
But last night, we got to take an amusing trip down memory lane. It all started as we were walking by a house with a driveway stuffed with trucks and teenage boys and two giggling girls. As we walked by, we heard "Hi" and said hello back. The two girls ran over to us, "I like your outfit." I'm sure they were talking to Dani because I was wearing pajama bottoms. We said goodbye and kept walking.
We turned around at the top and headed back by this house about twenty minutes later. The girls saw us again and ran up to us and said, "You guys are cute." We thanked them and they stepped into our pace, wanting to walk with us for a bit. They were 13. And cute. And wore a little too much make-up. As we were walking, I heard one of the girls say, "Do you think I should do it right here?" The other one nodded. Then the girl started running on the street and did a round-off back handspring. I smiled inwardly. And said, "Wow." The other one started blurting out, "I do kick boxing, and I sing, and play the piano and the guitar." We kindly dismissed them after a while and told them to be careful around those guys and they shouldn't be dating guys who can drive at their age. And were they okay staying at that house?
After they giggled and ran off, I admitted to Dani that I used to do back flips anywhere--at gas stations, the beach, restaurant parking lots--to get attention when I was that age. My insecurities were that I was never the prettiest of my friends (I've always had really pretty friends) and I needed some way to stand out. I used the one thing that came naturally to me--tumbling. Yes, an obvious, far-fetched cry for attention, I now see.
Then Dani admitted the other one was like her--well, I play the piano and I sing and I do this and this . . . We both laughed, walking off, realizing that we had just met ourselves 15 years before.
The girls had gasped when we told them our ages. But I have to say, I like the person I am at 30 three times as much as I liked the crying-for-attention girl I was at 13.
