Sunday, December 14, 2003

When I was five, my best friend's name was Jeremy. He was a fun kid and only lived a house away from me. We were "thick as thieves" we were. The only downside of our friendship was that I was mortally afraid of Jeremy's dad.
Jeremy's dad (JOHN) was a strict man and his dark hair and eyes made him look fierce. He worked graveyard shifts at a local grocery store and slept during the day. This made him like an enormous bear, always hibernating. And we were always so careful not to wake him lest we suffer the wrath.
One day, I was playing with Jeremy on the second floor of his house and went to use the bathroom. When I came out, Jeremy was gone. After searching the whole upperstairs, I descended into the basement and happened upon Jeremy's dad chillin' in his underwear, watching TV. Timidly I approached him from behind and asked him where Jeremy went, startled he turned toward me and, in a not-to-be-used with a five-year-old tone, basically told me something that equated, "get out!" I ran from the house in tears and later found out that Jeremy had gone to his grandma's. Anyhow, their family moved away shortly after...

Anyway, flash forward 20 years (Friday!)...I walk into a Macey's and see a man who looks more than vaguely familiar. His dark shock of hair bobs up and down as he stocks shelves. "No, it can't be," I think to myself. As I walk by, I glance at the name tag on his red apron and "JOHN" reads out legible and clear. I take another glance before walking into the bakery section and his and my gaze catch for a moment; an instant moment of mutual recognition...memories of being chased out of Jeremy's basement come flying back to me and for a moment I start to get nervous.

Then I think to myself, "why?" and walk to the frozen food section.

I didn't think that moving home after living away for 6 years would bring so many encounters with my past. Life is funny.

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