when I was a little girl

When I was a little girl, I had a friend, D. She was a tiny blond girl. She was kind and sweet and smart. D was the youngest of (I think) 4 kids and all of her siblings were much-older brothers. Her Mom was a sweet lady, if not a little distracted. Though she did seem (at least to my young mind) to love her children very much.

For whatever reason, D's Mom wasn't much for housekeeping or cleanliness of any sort, for that matter. D was the dirty kid in class. Her uniform and shoes were always stained and dirty. Her hair was stringy, unbrushed and unwashed. No one else would even give her the time of day. Often, she smelled pretty bad, if you got too close. I remember being so sad when the other kids said terribile things about her. I also remember understanding that it wasn't her fault that she was the dirty kid. She never let their words bother her, or if she did, she never let on. She was much better at handling the other kids than I was.

One year, D explained that her brother was in a horrible motorcycle accident and had suffered a head injury among other things. Following the accident, things seemed to get even worse for D. The neglect seemed to increase. Once, the school nurse even sent her home because she had a horrible case of fleas.

After we all went on to high school, I lost touch with her. Her mother couldn't afford to send her to the same school with us, because of her brother's medical bills. One day, a few years into college, my mother told me that D's brother had come in for a hair cut.

It turned out that he had not, in-fact been in that accident, but rather, had attempted to end his life with a shotgun and failed. Unfortunately, he did take off half of his face, in the process. He liked my mother and continued to come in to the shop for hair cuts until she died. Apparently, she could be a pretty cool person if you weren't related to her.

Every once in a while I'll see or hear something that will remind me of D. Today, Zane and I were walking through the park. I saw the snow on the grass. It brought me back to a day when we were walking back to my house, from school. D was coming over to hang out with me, despite the fact that I wasn't allowed to have anyone in the apartment while my mother was at work. I was glad to have her company and she didn't want to go home. I can't even remember talking. There remains just the quiet memory of her presence.

D, wherever you are, I hope you're well. I miss you, and hope you've found much happiness and love.