One of my favorite late elementary school memories was going to a math tournament off campus. We were some of the youngest competitors there so we weren’t exactly a favorite to win which took a lot of the pressure off and we all enjoyed math so any pressure that was left fell away when we were given our problems to solve.
Our chaperone kept an eye on us but largely left us to ourselves. We were three kids away from everything routine and pretty much “free” for a day. One guy was my friend. He had always been lighthearted and loved giving hugs but his parents’ disagreements were starting to take their toll on him and soon he would become more withdrawn and wear black all the time.
The other boy was known for still playing with his toys and having enthusiastic discussions about the adventures his action figures had been on. Most of our peers would slowly back away during his adventure narratives, not wanting it to be public knowledge that there could be the possibility they still had anything to do with toys. We were about to grow up and head to middle school after all.
And then there was me. A tomboy who loved being a girl but enjoyed fitting in with the guys. A few years earlier I had been the only girl on the boys’ baseball team and we won our world series. At first I was gross because I was a girl, but by the time we won I was just a teammate. On team sign up day, I learned that girls threw underhanded and used a baseball nearly the size of a beach ball. I found this to be very terrible news. That was so not how Gary Carter or Mookie Wilson or Don Mattingly or any other major leaguer played and I wanted no part of it.
At the math tournament we had a lunch break and there was a large outdoor area to wander. The boy who owned playing with his toys was talking about his action figures’ latest heroics. My friend and him talked superheroes and comics for the whole hour. The boy’s face lit up and he was so happy to have someone share his interests.
I think my friend had moved on to hard rock and other more serious interests where his grief at losing things that were special to him could have a more mature outlet, but I think he was happy to help someone else keep a childlike innocence that he felt like he was losing. I knew nothing about superheroes and comics, but I enjoyed myself to no end anyway, just quietly being in a moment where we were all accepted and relatively carefree.
It was fun to nerd out and let our guard down and be happy. There must be a way as adults where we can figure out how to be as bright as my friend was and be good to each other. Life gets harder and more complex, but maybe once in a while something as simple as kindness can define more moments. You’ve got this!
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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