Week 7: My Life- A memoir

         My Life- A memoir

By the time I was born, the family dog was already a big dog with lots of fur and long leg. I refer to it as a family dog here because it existed before I was born but as soon as I came to life it became my dog. It never left my side. When I finally moved out of home to go to college, my mother reluctantly gave me a photo album of some of my childhood photos and she remained with some of them. It was emotional for both of us because she was accepting that was no longer the young girl who always clung to her dress. I, on the other hand, was looking into the abyss of adulthood. When I go through the photos my mother gave me on that day, I realized just how much the dog was special to me. It was always by my side when I could barely walk, beside me when I took my first ride around the estate, and as I walked to the school bus.

I remember it being fun and energetic until it was not. One day as I was lying on my bed as a sixth-grader doing my homework, I pushed it a little and there was no resistance in how it fell. The playful eyes were absent and I knew I had lost him even before anybody told me. I started grieving even before the dog died. I remember begging my parents to take it to the veterinary and although they agreed, there was no hope in their eyes. I only came to know that he was put down by the doctor in my absence and buried in our backyard. I threw a fit and did not talk to anybody for days. I starved myself and grieved for even longer. I comforted myself by saying that it was just a dog but to me, it was more than that. It was a member of my family for ages. Although life has broken my heart in worse ways, I do not remember something that felt quite like that. What comes close is the falling out between my childhood friend and me.

We had been friends all our lives up until five years ago and we have not talked since. She was more of a sibling than a friend to me. We talked about boys and books and we had mad fun as teenagers. But when we fought it got ugly real fast. We had two or three physical fights as young girls but in our adulthood, it never got to that point. But the pain and frustration were always the same. The last time we argued, I left her house mid-argument and deleted her number in a cab as I went home. The next morning she had sent me numerous messages and I only replied that I did think it was a good idea to continue with the friendship. It felt like I was breaking up with a lover. I have never looked back since.

Although it was for the better, I feel guilty and miss her sometimes. We had shared so many moments from childhood and I know for sure this was not how it was supposed to end but it was for the best. Sometimes when my mother calls she asks how my friend is doing I say she doing well even though I do not know how she fairing. I have made more good friends since then but none feels like her. Meanwhile, I hope age and experience will bring us together someday. But I would still be okay if we never become friends.