When I was growing up, I would always go to my great grandmother's house, and she'd watch me. I called her Mim, and we would go on walks around downtown Nashua, along the tracks, back when there were tracks, and through the trails. We would go through the dump and I'd find exciting treasures and take them home, like small toys, or maybe spoons. I would always wonder why there were so many spoons, but after health class and learning about drugs, I remembered the spoons and thought, wow, a large part of my childhood has probably been influenced by drug-users. Well, I would go there and we would spend the day together.
In third grade, after the first few snowfalls, a family moved into the house accross the street after the nice lesbian couple moved out. I saw them around, and they had two daughters, I wanted to talk to them, but I was a shy kid, so I never did anything about it, but one day, my mom looked at me as we were driving up the street. She saw that I was looking at them, and said, "Go talk to them." I told her I didn't want to, she, of course, being my mother, forced me to. I walked over slowly. Larissa was standing there, just as shy as I was, and Nicole, her younger sister, hid behind her and peeked over her shoulder. We made our introductions and agreed to go sledding. Since they're older brother, Marky, stole theirs, we just used the two I had in my Mim's shed.
We were all huddled and talking, getting to know eachother, and Nicole spit on the ground. We all looked down at the yellow, spitty blob in between us all, and I asked, "Does she always pee out of her mouth?" (I was a weird kid. I still am.) And we all laughed, and I think that's when we all decided that our relationship was going to bloom into something wonderful.
Most of my childhood memories involve Larissa, Nicole, Mark, and Mr. and Mrs. R. (their parents) so I decided this should be the first story. This is where most of my stories actually begin, other than the random baby stories my grandmother told me about. I think it's suiting.