To: IvElliot@gmail.com
Cc:
Subject: Remember when we were eight and I showed up at your door with chocolate chip cookies?
You just moved into the neighborhood. I remember the big moving truck beeping as it backed into your driveway. I didn't mind having new neighbors. The people who lived in your new house were old and mean. I was eight at the time and you hopped out of the car parked in front of the house holding a big red toy firetruck. It was a hot day. My windows were open and I could hear your little voice shout, "mom come on! we're here!" as you ran up the stones in your front yard. A woman laughed as she got out of the car. Her stomach was big and round, so big she had to lean back as she climbed the stairs of your porch. A week earlier your parents had visited the neighbors, me being one of the houses they rang. I had opened the door that day and they seemed surprised to see me. They smiled and said softly, "oh hello! We're going to be moving in next door. What might your name be?". I had a hard time pronouncing my name so I lifted up my wrist to show them my bracelet. My mom had made it with me the day before. "Carla, oh what a beautiful name.. sweetie, are your parents home," your mom's voice said kindly. She was so sweet. I nodded and opened the door wider. I then ran into the kitchen to grab my mom. She followed me back to the front door and her face lit up. We never had good friends in the neighborhood. We mainly kept to ourselves. I heard them talking like adults. They kept saying big words I didn't understand at the time. All I remembered was my mom calling out to them as they left, "I'll make sure to bring by cookies,".
My mom had been baking these chocolate chip cookies for two days. She said they needed to be perfect so she prepared the dough overnight, then froze them and baked them in the morning. She took the cookies out of the oven to cool and told me to get dressed. I didn't understand why I couldn't wear what I was wearing, but I guess mom got mad about how I wasn't presentable in just pajamas. Once I was changed mom let me bring the cookies over. She stacked them on a big serving tray and tied a big bow around clear wrapping paper. It looked like a big gift. I walked across my yard and through yours to ring your doorbell. The door opened and the man I met earlier greeted me. He said my name so nicely. He took the cookies and invited me in for one and a glass of milk. I climbed into a stool in the kitchen and your dad laid out two plates with two cookies each and a glass of milk. He then called your name, "Ivan! Cookies!"
You came running in with your firetruck and giggled. You climbed up into the stool next to me and looked at me with big eyes.
"I'm Ivan!"
I raised my hand.
You thought for a moment before stuttering "Cah-la"
I smiled. That's how I pronounced it too.
