If there’s something I’ve not forgotten,
It’s her name. Her name is Pamela. Phantom memories from my childhood.
The more I try to remember her, the more it seems faint.
So I hold on to the residual memories left like footprints on a shore, almost washed by tides of time.
I recall when we used to take our mother’s kitchen stool every Sunday evening to the backyard and climbed on it, to make us somewhat taller than the fence demarcating our compounds. Then we stuck our necks across the wall so we could see our faces and talk to each other.
I grew up in a constrained estate, parents never really allowed their children leave the gates or associate with children from other compounds. Apparently, every parent was strict and egotistic.
I presume Pamela and I were two lucky kids able to talk to each other, but we did that in strains. However, it was exciting.
Our parents didn’t encourage any of that.
On many occasions my mum scolded me for taking her stool to the backyard and endangering my neck over the fence to talk with Pamela. Pamela’s parents didn’t let her be either. Did that stop us from seeing over the fence?
Yes it did.
What could children of barely 8 years have done to maintain a tender friendship?
Both parents couldn’t contain their children’s choices.
After some months my parents packed out of the estate and I never heard of Pamela again in my life.
In retrospect, we never mentioned our surnames when we had our sneak chats. If we did I should’ve remembered, just as I did with her name. That would’ve given me a clear identification on what to search on social media. And I would’ve said to her, “Hey Pamela do you remember me? This Chinasa your fence childhood friend from Ibeato Estate Owerri Imo State.”
Thanks for stopping by, I’ll see you when next I see you on the blog.
Hugs X Kisses.
Do you remember any of your childhood friendships and moments?
Please share it with us in the comment section below.