Butterflies, Holy Macaroni and CHIPS

Many people will cross our paths during our lifetimes, but Esther Perry has been one of the most prominent characters in mine. Every summer day she would put on her halter top and shorts, I would put on my t-shirt and shorts, and we would head out to save the world, solve a crime, teach a class or be heroes…we never knew what our day might bring.

Some days we would ride our bikes until our legs felt like jello, pretending to be Ponch and John from CHIPS. Some days we would pretend to get married to our latest crush…”Today, we are here to join this man and this woman in Holy Macaroni.”

I can remember walking barefoot through rocks and making mud pies with her. I remember singing songs with her, and I remember when she hit me with the stick from our stick ball game. However painful or happy any of those memories are, I wouldn’t trade a single one…they contributed in making me who and what I am today.

When I was a little girl, I was more afraid of butterflies than the thought of a monster in the dark. Oh, how my neighbors would torture me with butterflies. I was a short, little, chubby girl who loved to play outside, drink kool-aid and draw in the dirt. Esther, my neighbor, cousin and closest friend, would catch a butterfly by the wings, chase me with it and tease me until I cried.

As I have grown, I have realized the great bond Esther and I have shared through the years. She is someone who is real…no judgments, no assumptions. When I got married, she was in my wedding. She wrote and recited this poem as we were getting ready:

I remember skating on the porch,
And playing football in the yard.
I remember that you would run home crying
Because Neal threw the ball too hard.

I remember that big ‘ole rock
Where we piled the leaves so high.
We would run and take a flying leap
As if we could touch the sky.

I remember riding bikes and playing CHIPS
All day long.
We’d always fight over who was Ponch
And who got to sing the song.

I remember we had a dirt track
For our Hot Wheels on the hill
And I was wondering…
Do you run away from butterflies still?

I remember playing “Holy Macaroni,”
And singing “I’ve Been Redeemed.”
This day didn’t take as long to get here
As it so long ago seemed.

We then grew to be teenagers,
And we went our separate ways,
But it’s the bond we made as children
That brings us together again today.

When I gave birth to my sweet, little girls, she always came to visit. When I got divorced, she encouraged me. Every year on her birthday, March 29, I reflect on the many wonderful memories of our childhood together. I’m not afraid of butterflies anymore. The memories of her chasing me with one make me giggle and make for great stories to share with my girls.

Happy birthday, Esther! We've come a long way!