“Would you rather fight a bear or wrestle an alligator?”
“I dare you to lick your shoe!”
“Bubblegum bubblegum, in a dish…”
“Get me, get me, I’m frozen!”
“Redo—it was on the line!”
“…no repeats…or hesitation…”
Memories are strong. They hold a lot of power over someone and are like pockets of emotion. Some have greater power than others when thought about. For example, a past death may bring more feeling than losing on a two-dollar scratch ticket.
Regardless, memories are different for everyone. The games I used to play with the kids who lived four houses down are going to stay in my mind until the end of time. We hung out in the summer as the warm wind made our hair look a mess, cutting to us running inside to chug the most refreshing glass of water you’ve ever had.
My elementary school was the root of these memories. The lunch bell would ring as I heard all the papers rustling and backpack zippers closing, packing up to head outside. Running to the blacktop, avoiding the cracks in the pavement hoping not to trip, the four-square courts were a popular attraction.
A simple game with a ball and some chalk: Drawing out a two-by-two grid on the concrete and a starting line next to one of the inscribed squares. Four kids would fill the squares as a line formed behind them. The “emperor” would begin by bouncing and hitting the ball to another person in a square. You had to be on alert at all times just in case you were next.
“You’re out. You have to let it hit the ground.”
“Oh, I didn’t know-”
“You’re out. Back of the line.”
Fights were a daily occurrence because of that game—it was complex. Looking back on it now, they were all stupid arguments, but the good moments stuck. We made up random rules to try and trick each other, but they were often quickly let go because nobody had an interest in being fooled.
I wish I had the consciousness that I have now to use back then. Those moments when I’d run around chasing people for freeze-tag or being mature when confronting someone if they’d cheat. Like during the decision-making game of bubblegum-bubblegum, purposefully counting how many shoes they’d need to tap to not get out.
I think my decision-making techniques mainly stemmed from playing that game. Bubblegum-bubblegum is a strategy I still use to make up my mind about simple things. It helps me feel like my sense of childhood and creativity hasn’t left my person just yet.
The remembrance of games from my elementary years has grounded and solidified me to the fact that it was fun. I wish I could keep those times alive, but time moves quickly and I know these are the forever kind of memories.
