I miss you

I remember Fridays were when we wore our short skirts to school, and put ribbons in our hair. It was great unless we had to wear the bulky sweater with the big letter safety-pinned onto the front. Or the itchy wool green skirt.

Fridays were when we got out of afternoon classes a bit early in order to stretch and get ready for the pep rallies. (We didn’t need to be in classes, anyway, we were much too smart for them.)

Fridays we sometimes just stayed at school until the games started – although I can’t remember exactly what we did for dinner... Taco Bell?

Fridays we decorated lockers and stadium corners with balloons and posters (I know this because there is yearbook evidence).

Fridays as the sun went down, we glittered and smiled and jumped high into the air. These were the days before our knees couldn’t take that kind of punishment.

Fridays we looked into the stands, or onto the field, at whatever boys we were drooling over at the time. In between cheers we watched them and hoped they turned to watch us once in a while.

Fridays we shouted at everyone to “Come on, everybody, clap your hands!”

Fridays we -- you and I -- probably walked arm in arm, grinning, gossiping. We carried our sports bags and our pom-poms with pride. Or at least that is how I want to remember it.

Some Fridays we spent the night at your house. I don’t remember spending the night at mine, but surely we did, right? Those were the best times. What is more fun than staying up late, playing with makeup, and watching movies in the dark?

Fridays. Game days. Long-ago, happy days.