Tatum's Game of Life

January 4th, 2009

What do you do when you find your past or records of your past I should say? Well, during the "cleaning out stuff" portion of moving I found my journal from 6th grade. It's weird to see the thing again after it being pushed way back in the far part of my closet for about 2, almost 3, years now. I thought I lost the darn thing!

I about tossed it in the trash but a few pages protruding from inside the book interested me. I opened the book and saw that they weren't random papers I had just stuck in the book, but in fact were entries that are falling out. What did I even write back in sixth grade? It is that bad I don't remember and it was only two years ago? Well, almost...You get my point.

"Tay, lunch is ready!" my mom hollered down the hallway.

"Okay, be there in a few," I said, still looking at the leather book.

My mom came around and poked her head through the door. "Really? I thought you'd be starving by now. We've been cleaning since 9," she asked.

"I am," I answered. "but I have this one small little portion I can fit in." I gave a tight-mouthed smile.

"Okay sweetheart," my mom smiled back. She and her jubilant spirits walked down the hall to the kitchen to eat, presumably, a peanut butter & banana sandwich. Yum!

I opened up to the first page and instantly recognized the crinkled, written-on paper. I flipped through the book, noticing I never finished. Hmm, I wonder why I quit... Yeah, my memory is AWFUL! I flipped through the book once more, noticing how much my handwriting had changed during that period of time. Just as I went back to the first page, my sister Caroline barged in.

Well, technically, Caroline and I aren't sisters. We're cousins, but consider ourselves sisters separated at birth but are still apart of the same family. Yeah, kind of confusing, I get it. So, to avoid all the confusion, we just call ourselves sisters.

"Hey, Tater Tot!" Caroline said, flopping herself on my bed.

"Hello, Carol," I said, bursting into fits of giggles. She hates it when I call her Carol and "claims" it makes her sound like an old woman. I call her that anyways just to be funny.

"Ha ha, very funny," she played along. "Tummy."

Tummy is the nickname my mom used to call me when I was younger and still does occasionally. I hate it. But, I think I got her trained to either say Tay, Tate, Tatum, anything that isn't Tummy. Caroline still remembers when we were about five or six and we were playing with our dollies in the Dolly Dreamhouse and when we had to leave to go to soccer practice, my mo said, "C'mon, Tummy. We gotta get going if you don't wanna be late for practice!" So, after that incident, the next time I went over to her house, she would NOT STOP TEASING ME! Although, that's when I found her weakness: Carol. And even today, just to be goofy, we still call each other the names we hate. Oh, and they really come in handy when we get into fights, which isn't that often if that's what you thought I meant.

"So, whatcha doin on this fine wintry day?" she asked, resting her head on her fists and kicking her feet up and down at a slow rhythm.

"Cleanin' stuff out, throwin' stuff out, packing stuff up," I replied, demonstrating the catastrophic condition my room was currently in.

"Oh yeah, you're moving," she kind of singsonged, in a bad way.

"I'm sorry. I can't help that my mom wants to move somewhere new. She's seen this house for more than 14 years. I can imagine she'd be a little sick of it by now," I replied.

"Well, YOU BETTER NOT be moving to another state," Caroline warned. Her icy blue eyes narrowed.

"So sorry to break your heart, love," I attempted a British accent. She scowled back at me.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," I said with a laugh.

"You better be," she threatened. She instantaniously went back to her happy cheerful self. "What's that?" She pointed to my journal.

"Oh, nothing," I said, looking around the room and scratching the back of my neck.

"Doesn't look like nothing to me," she singsonged. She got up off the bed and sat in the adjacent beanbag chair next to mine.

"It's just a book. See?" I wave the thing in her face.

"Then why can't you show me what's inside the book?" she asked, with a stupid grin on her face whilst nudging me in the shoulder.

"It's nothing," I said, turning to my drawers putting the book in there.

I'll read it later when she leaves.

Caroline shrugged and changed the subject. "So, I saw this guy today," she started.

"Oh goodness, here we go again," I said rolling my eyes.

Caroline is always telling me about these guys she sees places. She'll see him then tell me and I'll always ask the same thing: "Did you talk to him?" And she'll always answer with the same tone of voice as the last: dragging out the 'o' in the, "No" then, I can see her looking down at her feet.

"Well why not?" I'd ask her.

"Same reason you wouldn't," she replied.

And we'd always recite the same thing together: "Because he was too cute and my dad was around."

Even though it was never said, we'd both always know that we were both too shy to speak to ANY cute guys. We both haven't found the courage to do it and usually, they show up when I look freaking aw-FUL!

Sometimes I think I can get up the courage to talk to them but when the chance comes stumbling along, I chicken out.

I guess Caroline was telling me her guy story. I only noticed when she was talking nonstop. I usually zone out at the first word or two. But something odd happened. She stopped.

"Oh, I gotta go. Mum's apparently going to try to ground me for not telling her that some stupid soap opera was on or for not closing the mayonnaise lid a little tighter," Caroline said, rolling her eyes.

"I thought you hated mayonnaise," I said, knowing the answer.

"I do," she replied.

"Doesn't she know that though," I asked.

"Yup," she grumbled as she curtly walked past me out the door.

I laughed at my best friend's mom's insaneness. I opened the drawer in which I hid my journal. I pulled it out and opened it. The first few pages fell out so I picked them up and placed them back in the journal the correct way. I began reading.

Dear Journal;

First entry! I found you almost six months ago and NOW, I finally got up the courage to write in you! I won't write every day but whenever I need to talk, that's when I'll write. If I have any problems, that's when I'll write! Okay, so, later today, I'll be trying out for the AAU basketball team, the Montana Grizzlies. I did it last year and it was torture. The coach was just.... too... "mean." He's a nice guy in general but I mean, I would have to run around the court like 10 times crying my eyes out because my knees hurt so bad. I almost quit but I decided I'd give it one more shot. I mean during volleyball season last year, a guy talked to my mom about joining an AAU VOLLEYBALL team which sounded better than cone night. So when the time came around to now, I decided I'd do it one more time and if I didn't like it, I would beg my mom to let me quit. He's probably coaching us again! UGH! If he's coaching, I REALLY don't wanna do this. Well anyways, I wonder how many girls from last year are coming back... oh well, we'll find out when I go. Okay, Mom's calling me to go. I gotta go. Wish me luck! I'll update you either when I get home or sometime tomorrow!

Always With Love,

Tatum

"Tay, last chance to be fed! Come and get it!" my mom warned.

"I'm coming. I promise," I hollered back.

I smiled remembering the memories I had writing in this. I shut the book and hid it back where I found it and went to eat some delicious lunch.