There I was, long blonde hair pulled back into two adorable pony tails with ribbons that matched my school dress. And little freckle faced Jimmy running close behind, still clinging helplessly to his school books. He never was able to keep up with me. Oh, but that scrawny kid always tried.
I suppose if you were to ask him he would say that he was always able to tag me, and he would say it with such an air of certainty you would know he believed it himself. Nothing was ever impossible to little Jimmy. That ginger haired kid would have told you he could jump to the moon, knowing for sure that he could if only he would try.
Our parents didn't like it much, our constant trips to the creek after school, they would always scold us for coming home in our school clothes sopping wet. It was the rope swing we loved so much that got us in trouble, we simply couldn't resist it on a warm spring day.
Little Jimmy's parents often gave him a stern look telling him he should know better and then gave him a pat on the back as they shrug it off and forgot. Mine however were positively cruel. Their favorite punishment was to revoke the privilege of choosing a treat when we went to visit the local sweet shop. Watching my sisters pine over choosing the Crunchie bar or the new Mars Bar was the worst. However, their best efforts did little to prevent Jimmy and I from returning to that beloved creek again the next week.
Little Jimmy and I, we had so many adventures. One summer we stole some twine from the old farmhouse and made a small raft out of sticks and twigs. When finished Jimmy insisted on being the captain so he could stand up tall using a branch to steer and push us along when the current was slow. The proud smirk he wore on his face would have you believing he owned the land. Though I don't know if he ever noticed the small branch I had by my side at all times helping him move us along. Come to think of it, it probably would have broken that little kid's heart if he did.
Oh, the stories we shared together.
But little Jimmy and I never spent time together past those childhood school days, for little Jimmy never grew up. He left us, his family and I, long before his time. Or at least that's what I had been told by so many adults trying to make a little girl feel better. It was known as the town tragedy, the event no one spoke of after that fateful summer.
But little Jimmy will forever be remembered as Little Jimmy; always smiling and always on another adventure to save the world. He truly thought he could do anything. And the way I remember it, he could have.
"Shelly is here to see you ma'am." A voice brought me away from the woods to a small stuffy room that made me itch from imaginative oppression.
"Wh--" is all I could make out. I don't even remember what my mouth was trying to say, but it didn't work. The bridge between my mind and my mouth collapsed long ago. My mind still trying to linger in the woods by the creek.
Thankfully my bewildered eyes must have communicated my confusion to the woman because this time she threw the words from her mouth like a shout, even though it came out as a whisper, "Ma'am. Kelly is here to see you." Her head nodded with each slow syllable as her eyes starred straight into mine ensuring the message got through.
Kelly? That name brought up images like a slideshow of a blonde haired woman with a smile in her eyes. But I couldn't remember. She looked so familiar but no matter how hard I tried to recall why I knew her, I simply couldn't place her.
The visitor walked into the room; blonde hair, brown eyes, and a timidity to her step. With flowers and a balloon in hand she stepped towards me but instead of the smile from my memory, concern filled her eyes.
As she placed the wildflowers by my bed and let the balloon soar to the ceiling, she grasped my hand in love. And with a raised voice, as quiet as the last, she forced a half smile on her face and said, "Happy Birthday, Mom."
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