I think I have come to terms with being an adult but there are still a few things that I need to digest.
Like how tremendously complicated it is to 'click' with people, and stay clicked. How infinite the factors to take into account are.
Do you remember how easy it was as a kid to click with other kids?
Once my mother took my sister and I to visit my aunt, who was living in the same city and who we visited regularly. Usually we spent our visits with her, telling her stories from school while she made jars of pickles in the kitchen for us to take home. But this time, there was a lady we'd never met before already sitting in the living-room, with a daughter a year younger than me. So as customs dictated, it was my responsibility to entertain the girl.
'Go and play' everyone urged, and so I led her to my aunt's room (which was the only other room) and we connected by turning her bed into a trampoline. That's all we did- we just jumped on the bed. I don't remember us asking each other what our names were, what kind of games we liked to play, what our favourite colour was. Jumping on the bed was enough of a strong introduction that I whined when they had to leave, and thought it was the most miraculous, divine miracle when we spotted each other the next day at school. It was enough for me to count it in one of my earliest real human connections and I don't even know what that girl's name was.
This other time, I had one of the best summer vacations the year a cousin came from Kuwait with her two girls that were around my age. We clicked so quickly and deeply that I even started talking in a Kuwaiti dialect at home (much to my mother's annoyance). They had rented a house for their two-weeks stay that belonged to a family we knew- an Afghan family who were in the carpet-making business- so you can imagine how beautiful this home was. It stood alone on a road that steeped upward- a large, three-storeyed home with wooden floors. This became my second-home for those two weeks: we spent hour after hour having the time of our lives- but now when I try to think of it, we never actually had to talk or 'get to know each other' to connect. It was enough that we had cheerio-gulping competitions, sessions where we dressed up as ghosts and scared their little sister, and adventurous sneaks into the basement where we each had the privilege of ironing clothes (and burning them).
At one sleep-over that I'll always remember, we abandoned our beds and sprawled our blankets on the floor in the middle of the room, camping on them. We went out into the pitch-black garden at some point on tip-toes, rushing back after mistaking an upside broom for a human. When we finally decided to give in to sleep, we each held out a clothes hanger in the air to protect ourselves from the robber outside. I remember feeling so incredibly happy with my new friends as we closed our eyes and held out our clothes-hanger weapons before us. Simple, real connections.