I've Missed You

Dear Me,

I've missed you.

Remember that summer after first grade? You were at your dad's house for the summer. You stole two foam curlers from the girl across the street. They belonged to one of her dolls. You slipped them in your pocket and snuck them back home with you. Upstairs in the bathroom with the door closed, you held them in your little hands. You looked down at them and then up at yourself, barely able to see your face above the bottom of the mirror. You turned on the water and wet your bangs, sliding your hair between your thumb and first two fingers. You weren't really sure how to get the curlers to work, so it took you a few tries before you were able to wrap your hair around them and then snap them closed. You used two, remember? One on the left side and one on the right. You were so excited to see what you would look like once your hair had dried and you could take them off. But then you got called down to dinner. It was your dad's birthday, and the family was having dinner on the back patio. You sat down, your younger brother on your right, your older brother on your left, your legs swinging underneath you, still unable to touch the ground. You were so excited about your new hair creation, you could hardly contain yourself. Your dad was sitting across from you. Your step-mom was walking around the table, scooping out piles of that gross broccoli-cheese-rice concoction you detested then but would probably enjoy now. As you were contemplating how you were going to manage to make it through the mountain of gag-inducing food, your father said loudly and with exasperation, "Justin, how about you take the curlers out for your dad's birthday, okay?" Your little heart shrank down. Your brothers snickered. Your step-mom kept spooning out food. You wrapped you fingers around both curlers and pulled down on them. You stuffed your hands between your legs to bury the embarrassing evidence, pressing your knuckles against the metal chair until they stung with pain. You didn't take your eyes off your plate for the remainder of the meal. You didn't talk to anyone or respond if anyone talked to you. You didn't know what you had done, but you knew that you would never do it again. I've sure missed that brave little guy, though.



Remember when you were in second grade? You pulled a sweatshirt out of the drawer and it was inside-out. While you were "fixing" it, it occurred to you to just wear it like it was. You slipped it on and looked at yourself in the mirror. You loved how the seams criss-crossed over your chest like a coat of arms, bold triangles of royal blue, red, and heather gray. You saw yourself in the mirror and smiled, proud of your ingenuity and creativity. You went to school that day feeling like the king of the world. Several people looked at you askance, but you just smiled, loving the attention. "Hey, did you know that your shirt is inside-out," they asked. You responded with a loud and proud "Yup!" each time. And then Brady pointed you out during class when everything was silent and said, "Why did you do that? That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen!" Your smile melted. Your proud chest caved in. You never wore your clothes inside-out again. I've really missed that fashion trend starting kid.

Remember in fifth grade when you were reciting Bill Cosby's stand-up routine to the kids at your table. They were roaring with laughter, especially Corey McGrath. The more she laughed, the more you hammed it up. Then your teacher said, "Since you're so funny, Justin, maybe you can make us all laugh?" It was kind of cocky of you, but you responded, "Okay!" Toward the end of the day, Ms. Schall asked you to stand in front of the class to deliver your routine. You started in with gusto, gesticulating wildly, and mimicking the various voices of the father and the children, just like Bill Cosby did. But the class was not responding with the same enthusiasm that the kids at your table had. Ms. Schall didn't laugh at all. You tried harder, got more emphatic with your voice and accents and character voices. Ms. Schall finally asked you to sit down and then continued with the lesson as if nothing had happened. Remember how you wished that you could disappear? Remember how you suddenly wished that people would stop looking at you? Remember how you vowed to never be the center of attention again? Man, I've missed that clown.

Remember the elaborate treasure maps you used to make? Remember how you would create an equally elaborate story to go along with how the treasure got to its present location, a location that just happened to be in your own back yard? But then you started to feel silly about making up stories and eventually convinced yourself that you didn't have a creative bone in your body. Every day, I miss that creative genius.

Remember how you danced to Madonna's "La Isla Bonita" for the school talent show? You had practiced in your garage with your friend for weeks. Being up on that stage felt so glorious and free. Remember hearing kids talking and laughing in the audience? Remember how you wanted to run away and hide but knew that there was no way to stop once you had started? I miss that dancing fool.

Remember the talent shows you would put on for your family? You would push in one of your mom's 8-track cassettes, choreograph a dance, and practice it all afternoon. Remember how excited you were to show off what you had done? Remember how you would recruit your brothers and your friends to be in the show with you? I wish that entertainment mogul would make another appearance.

Remember a few months ago? You suddenly saw yourself clearly and you sat in a chair and sobbed with relief and peace. You cried for that curler-wearing-fashion-trend-starting-comedian-talent-show-coordinator. You cried for how good it felt to let so many years of pain drift away. You felt like the world was finally--FINALLY--at your finger tips. You were so excited for all the great things that you would now accomplish. You felt perfect and invincible. You knew that any day now all the things you have been waiting your whole life for would finally present themselves to you. It's all so recent, but I already miss that optimistic guy too.

I've missed you. All of you. Don't give up on me yet.

Love Always,
The Real You