Loosing Two
I was about five years old when Ash Ketchum moved in next-door to me. I was so clueless then I didn't know why there was a moving truck there. My sister, Mae, told me new people were coming to live in that house.
My mother was still alive then, and she believed that all neighbors should be friends. So she brought me, Mae, and Gramps to the new neighbors' house.
Gramps had been living with us for as long as I can remember. After my Dad left, we moved in with him until Mom could get back on her feet. She never did, though, so we ended up staying.
The first thing I noticed about Mrs. Ketchum was that she was exactly like my mom. They were both husband-less, but still happy and cheerful all the time. No matter what life threw at them, they turned it into something useful. Later in life, Mrs. Ketchum would become my honorary mother.
I met Ash that day, too. I liked him then. From the first day, I knew there was something special between us.
Over the next few months, our families spent a lot of time together. Ash and I would play while our moms sat and chatted.
Everything was fine and dandy. That was about to change.
I always knew my mom was sick, but I was too young to really understand what that meant. I could tell when she was tired and couldn't play, but otherwise, I was completely oblivious to the seriousness of the illness.
I was over at Ash's house playing. Mrs. Ketchum had me over a lot to try and help out at home. Things were easier if I was out of the house. I remember the day well. Mom had been in the hospital for a while by then. I had no idea about hospitals. I just knew that Mom was "gone" for a while. I was too young to be allowed to see her.
Ash and I were playing in the sandbox in his backyard. Mrs. Ketchum was in the kitchen, making a snack for the two of us. The phone rang. I thought nothing of it. The phone rang a lot while we were playing. But today was different.
Mrs. Ketchum showed up at the porch door and told me it was time to go home. She was red-eyed and teary, but I guess I didn't notice.
I ran back home, but I was met with more of the same teary expression. I asked why everyone was crying. Gramps and Mae sat me down and tried to explain to me what had happened. Somehow, I couldn't understand the situation.
I understand now. My mother was gone. Just vanished and went to who-knows-where. I was told I could never see her again. The word "death" had no impact on me at all then. I suppose I got some of what they were saying, because I did start crying, but I didn't know never really meant never.
The Ketchums really helped me out that year. She had me over a lot. Sometimes she even had the whole family for dinner. I was fine with this. Ash and I were best friends and we got to spend a lot of time together.
A few months after my mom died, I became ill. I spent a few months in the hospital. With the same disease my mother had, my family doubted my survival. But somehow I pulled through. It wasn't over yet. I was in and out of the hospital. Always sick, always weak. It was lucky I had the Ketchums or I would have died. They visited me everyday, and took care of me when I was well enough to be home. Then I had surgery and that pretty much kept me healthy.
The years flew by. I was six, then seven. Ash and I began to go to school together. It was different there. More people became friends with me than Ash. My new friends said rude things about him. At first I would try to defend him, but after a year or so, I joined in.
Even though I was mean to Ash in school, we still played together at home. But I noticed that Ash and I were spending less time together, and when we did spend time, it often get cut short by a fight or an argument. We both thought we were better than the other. Our old games turned to competitions. Our old fun turned into madness. We were drifting away.
Ten came around and it was time to start training Pokémon. The day we were going to pick our starting Pokémon from Gramps, we had an awful argument about who could catch more and better Pokémon. That fight ended our friendship.
So here I am, out on my Pokémon journey. Right now, I don't care if I'm winning or loosing the race. I don't know why I always act so conceited in front of him, when in the back of my mind, I want us to be friends again.
On a night like this, I look back at the last five years and wonder, what went wrong? How could I have lost the two people who meant the most to me? How could I be so cruel to the people that helped me the most?
Then I answer myself. And I don't like what I hear.