Searching for Cindy
I’d like to be able to play it cool and pretend that I haven’t thought about her all these years. I’d like to be able to act like she never crossed my mind, but I’d be a liar. I feel like I’ve found a long-lost friend. Mostly because I have.
Cindy and I were inseparable for a lot of years. I can remember the first time I met her. We Catholic School girls had to go to the public school to view the famous “growing up” film with the public school 6th graders. There Cindy sat in a desk close to the window on the far side of the room. She didn’t stand out too much except for the obvious reason that she was a lot bigger than the other girls. Taller and heavier, but looking older than her 6th grade. I remember asking Lisa Smith who that girl was. I was fascinated by this girl who cracked jokes and laughed even though we were about to view the most mortifying film in cinematic history. Lisa told me that her name was Cindy, and she played softball with her.
Cindy and I didn’t become really close until she and my friend Angie ended up living in the same apartment building. We all hung out together, going swimming, riding bikes, and generally just being idiots. We laughed a lot those days. Sometimes I think we were the only ones who could keep each other sane. Angie, Cindy and I.
When I went to public school in 9th grade, things really got interesting. Cindy and I were best friends. We drank a lot and smoked a lot, which in hindsight, was REALLY stupid, considering our ages. We probably started drinking when we were about 15 and I would rather die than have my daughter follow my footsteps. Then again, in the small town I grew up in, there wasn’t much else to do, so I can excuse myself with that reason. It’s worked for me all these years.
I could spend hours going on and on about Cindy, and eventually I will. We had some times that were so memorable that not only do we laugh about them, but complete strangers have also passed the stories down to their kids. I tell my daughter a lot of our stories. The innocent ones, like wrecking our bikes about every day. Going swimming. Going to the movies. Exploring the trails around Doane. Doing things that small town girls do. Small town girls who were, for the most part, innocent.
I’m not sure of the exact time I realized Cindy was gay. Oddly enough, it didn’t matter. I never felt like she was after ME, or found ME attractive or looked upon me as a possible mate. It never seemed like that, and Cindy told me years later she was no more interested in me that way than I was interested in her that way. I think I felt bad because for a lot of years, Cindy was involved in relationships with men, in what I assume now was a desperate attempt to deny who she really was. We were roommates for a while, (ACTUAL ROOMMATES) and I KNOW she was, um, involved with guys.
Later, I can remember meeting up with her after she had moved away, and her “coming out” to me. Well, I kind of threw her out. She was hem-hawing around and I just blurted out, “Cindy, if you’re trying to tell me about you and Colleen (her girlfriend at the time), I already know. Big deal.” She just sat in my passenger seat and stared at me.
Her: “You know?”
Me: “I guess I’ve always known. Who cares?”
Her: great big sigh of relief.
It was never a point between us.
One of these days, I’m going to blog a bullet pointed thing of all the stupid things that Cindy and I either did or said. I’ll blog about the parties we had, the laughs we had and the general all-around good times we shared. Right now I don’t feel much like going into that because it’s going to take a little more thought on which ones to include. I’d include them all, but there is only so much bandwidth in this universe.
Cindy and I lost track of each other 11 years ago. I was engaged at the time, and she stopped by my apartment to hang out for awhile before returning to Omaha. I never heard from her again. Sure, I tried to find her. I did internet searches. I had my husband look her up on the crime databases. I had him run her license information, hoping to find her, but to no avail. Short of hiring a private investigator, which was seriously my next step, I tried about everything.
Then, about a week ago, Ron came home with a piece of paper. He was bored the night before and found recent information about Cindy. She has an address in the same city as I am in. I went and bought her a birthday card, since her birthday is coming up, and I didn’t have a phone number. I had Ron drive me past this house and I stuck the card in the door. I’m such a dork.
Last night, the phone rings. My daughter handed me the phone.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me: Who IS this?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me:
Caller: It’s Cindy.
There was some general little girl screaming going on at this point. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like a part of me was back. We talked for 45 minutes. She has been all over the country, basically, trying to find a place where she can fit in. She finally realized that the best place to be was home.
She said she found the card and just stared at it, almost crying. I told her I worried she really didn’t want to be found and would just throw it away and I’d never know if she got it or if she just threw it away, or if she really even lived there. We did some slight reminiscing. What we could fit in 45 minutes on the phone, at least. We’re waiting for a face-to-face meeting. The most ironic part of it all is that she and her mom just bought a house 5 BLOCKS FROM US. So, we went from 11 years to five blocks in 45 minutes.
I told my husband last night that I can finally admit that for the last 11 years, I felt like something was missing from my life, to an extent. It didn’t reflect at all on how happy I am with this life I’ve developed for myself, it was more of a loss feeling. Now that Cindy has been found, I feel like this part had filled back up. Who knows what will happen. We may learn that we cannot stand each other. I doubt it, though. On the phone last night, we were back in high school, it seemed. Laughing, talking, almost in tears at a couple of points. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, that’s for sure. I look forward to it.
Cindy and I were inseparable for a lot of years. I can remember the first time I met her. We Catholic School girls had to go to the public school to view the famous “growing up” film with the public school 6th graders. There Cindy sat in a desk close to the window on the far side of the room. She didn’t stand out too much except for the obvious reason that she was a lot bigger than the other girls. Taller and heavier, but looking older than her 6th grade. I remember asking Lisa Smith who that girl was. I was fascinated by this girl who cracked jokes and laughed even though we were about to view the most mortifying film in cinematic history. Lisa told me that her name was Cindy, and she played softball with her.
Cindy and I didn’t become really close until she and my friend Angie ended up living in the same apartment building. We all hung out together, going swimming, riding bikes, and generally just being idiots. We laughed a lot those days. Sometimes I think we were the only ones who could keep each other sane. Angie, Cindy and I.
When I went to public school in 9th grade, things really got interesting. Cindy and I were best friends. We drank a lot and smoked a lot, which in hindsight, was REALLY stupid, considering our ages. We probably started drinking when we were about 15 and I would rather die than have my daughter follow my footsteps. Then again, in the small town I grew up in, there wasn’t much else to do, so I can excuse myself with that reason. It’s worked for me all these years.
I could spend hours going on and on about Cindy, and eventually I will. We had some times that were so memorable that not only do we laugh about them, but complete strangers have also passed the stories down to their kids. I tell my daughter a lot of our stories. The innocent ones, like wrecking our bikes about every day. Going swimming. Going to the movies. Exploring the trails around Doane. Doing things that small town girls do. Small town girls who were, for the most part, innocent.
I’m not sure of the exact time I realized Cindy was gay. Oddly enough, it didn’t matter. I never felt like she was after ME, or found ME attractive or looked upon me as a possible mate. It never seemed like that, and Cindy told me years later she was no more interested in me that way than I was interested in her that way. I think I felt bad because for a lot of years, Cindy was involved in relationships with men, in what I assume now was a desperate attempt to deny who she really was. We were roommates for a while, (ACTUAL ROOMMATES) and I KNOW she was, um, involved with guys.
Later, I can remember meeting up with her after she had moved away, and her “coming out” to me. Well, I kind of threw her out. She was hem-hawing around and I just blurted out, “Cindy, if you’re trying to tell me about you and Colleen (her girlfriend at the time), I already know. Big deal.” She just sat in my passenger seat and stared at me.
Her: “You know?”
Me: “I guess I’ve always known. Who cares?”
Her: great big sigh of relief.
It was never a point between us.
One of these days, I’m going to blog a bullet pointed thing of all the stupid things that Cindy and I either did or said. I’ll blog about the parties we had, the laughs we had and the general all-around good times we shared. Right now I don’t feel much like going into that because it’s going to take a little more thought on which ones to include. I’d include them all, but there is only so much bandwidth in this universe.
Cindy and I lost track of each other 11 years ago. I was engaged at the time, and she stopped by my apartment to hang out for awhile before returning to Omaha. I never heard from her again. Sure, I tried to find her. I did internet searches. I had my husband look her up on the crime databases. I had him run her license information, hoping to find her, but to no avail. Short of hiring a private investigator, which was seriously my next step, I tried about everything.
Then, about a week ago, Ron came home with a piece of paper. He was bored the night before and found recent information about Cindy. She has an address in the same city as I am in. I went and bought her a birthday card, since her birthday is coming up, and I didn’t have a phone number. I had Ron drive me past this house and I stuck the card in the door. I’m such a dork.
Last night, the phone rings. My daughter handed me the phone.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me: Who IS this?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me:
Caller: It’s Cindy.
There was some general little girl screaming going on at this point. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like a part of me was back. We talked for 45 minutes. She has been all over the country, basically, trying to find a place where she can fit in. She finally realized that the best place to be was home.
She said she found the card and just stared at it, almost crying. I told her I worried she really didn’t want to be found and would just throw it away and I’d never know if she got it or if she just threw it away, or if she really even lived there. We did some slight reminiscing. What we could fit in 45 minutes on the phone, at least. We’re waiting for a face-to-face meeting. The most ironic part of it all is that she and her mom just bought a house 5 BLOCKS FROM US. So, we went from 11 years to five blocks in 45 minutes.
I told my husband last night that I can finally admit that for the last 11 years, I felt like something was missing from my life, to an extent. It didn’t reflect at all on how happy I am with this life I’ve developed for myself, it was more of a loss feeling. Now that Cindy has been found, I feel like this part had filled back up. Who knows what will happen. We may learn that we cannot stand each other. I doubt it, though. On the phone last night, we were back in high school, it seemed. Laughing, talking, almost in tears at a couple of points. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, that’s for sure. I look forward to it.
posted by Nebraska Angie @ 7:15 AM
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