Memoir

A Perfect Day

Now, I don’t believe in the word perfect. It’s an impossible goal; there’s always something that could have happened better. But I also believe that perfection doesn’t occur from things happening in the absolute best way they can (I would say that’s impossible, but I don’t believe in that word either), it occurs from not wanting to change a thing.

I must have walked across the park at least a thousand times. And I don’t even think that’s an exaggeration. I used to live about three or four blocks away from it on the Sunset side. Now I live only a few blocks away on the Richmond side. Oh, and in case you haven’t realized, I'm referring to the Golden Gate Park; it’s always been just the park to me. And now that I'm older, I'm constantly meeting friends at the deYoung or on 9th (Avenue—another San Franciscan abbreviation), both of which require me to go through the park. I know that part of the park as well as the back of my hand. Probably better.

So when I decided to plan a surprise birthday party for my friend Rebecca (C—there are two Rebecca’s in my class), the park was my immediate choice of places to have it. I figured that the Rose Garden would be a very pleasant place to have a nice picnic lunch, as well as a good place to surprise her.

Rebecca had been going through a hard time lately. I won’t say exactly why (I want to protect her privacy), but I knew she was feeling unwanted. I could tell by the way she moved, the way she spoke. She needed to feel wanted, of value. And she so was, and is. I just needed a way to show her this. So I planned this day for her.

I called everyone I thought was close to Rebecca, and told them what to bring, where to meet, and when. Then I called Rebecca and invited her to my house the Sunday of her birthday for a little celebration in the park. I implied that it would be just the two of us, and told her to come around 12ish. The others were to get to the park at 12:30. They would call me shortly afterward, and I would tell Lara (who was one of the guests), that I couldn’t chat, Rebecca was over. Sorry. Then, five to ten minutes later, we would head out, and, after about five or so minutes of walking, we’d reach the Rose Garden and Pavla, Lara, and Ariel would jump out from behind a rose bush, surprising her. At least, that was the plan.

But of course it didn’t happen that way. It never does.

It started out right. Rebecca came around 12, maybe a few minutes late or early, I don’t remember. But that was only to be expected. I greeted her enthusiastically, so much in fact, that my dad told me to tone it down a notch so she wouldn’t guess, but I think she would have been more suspicious that way; I'm a very enthusiastic person. I filled her in, not on the surprise part (duh), but on the picnic thing. I told her we could hang out here for a while and then head out whenever we got hungry. A.k.a. we could hang out here till Lara called to tell me they were ready. That’s where things got complicated.

See, she didn’t call. 12:30 came and went, and by 1oclock I had run out of reasons to stall. I told my dad we were leaving and, when Rebecca wasn’t looking, mouthed for him to call Lara and tell her, ready or not, we were coming. I grabbed the gynormous backpack I was using to hold the food (5 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a big bowl of Israeli salad, a small carrot cake from the best bakery in town, Arizmendi, cups, plates, plastic ware and napkins) and explained off the size by subtly mentioning how much space a blanket takes up (you can’t have a picnic without a blanket). We then headed out the door, and about five or so minutes later we were at the Rose Garden.

I saw them because I knew to look for them. They were hiding behind a rose bush, a thick one, with pink and yellow flowers. I made eye contact and slowed, not sure when they were going to surprise her. After a couple of breaths they jumped out a few feet in front of us. For almost ten seconds Rebecca stood there, almost as if no one was in front of us, simply enjoying the sun. Then all of a sudden her eyes focused and she jumped back in surprise. We were all laughing and hugging and joking about the delayed reaction, but it made me wonder what exactly had happened, where Rebecca’s mind had been. We then, without too much debate, picked a spot on the grass and set up the blanket.

And then came the food. Miles, pounds, heaps of food. In addition to the Israeli salad and sandwiches, we had potato salad, veggies, two different fruit salads, and two different brands of fruity drinks, both of which were watery and slightly unpleasant tasting. For dessert there was the carrot cake, which only Rebecca and I liked, and brownies made by Pavla’s mom, which we all ate enthusiastically. We put a candle in one of them and sang happy birthday. After that we gave her our gifts and made speeches. I made her a friendship bracelet to replace a bracelet that she stole from Yazzie (she didn’t actually steal it, just never gave it back, not that Yazzie cared) that she wore constantly and had broken. The speech I made was longwinded and kinda cheesy, but sincere.

After we had eaten and drunken to our hearts content, talking and goofing around the entire time, we just sat and chatted. Well, we also climbed all over each other and made many a joke that I will NOT repeat here, but basically we were having a great time. But Pavla and Lara wanted to actually do something (does talking not count as something?) so we played a game, I don’t know what it’s called, but we basically had to hide in sight of the seeker, and the seeker would have to identify us. After the first round—in which I hid directly behind Lara the entire time and managed somehow to be caught only second to last—we agreed that the Rose Garden definitely wasn’t the best place to play; not enough hiding spaces. We had been toying with the idea of going down into the Redwood Grove for a while, and so we decided to move our game down there, where there were sure to be many more possible hiding spaces.

When we got down there, Lara immediately climbed a tree. The trunk was thin and diagonal, and looked just sturdy enough to hold her weight. I laughed along with everyone else as we decided that this tree was her new lover (I think we named it Harry, or something like that), putting aside (for once) my fear that she might fall. There was no fear here among the trees, just five friends, together, free. Anything was possible in that grove. We were at the deepest point, a point where we could see everyone who passed, but all anyone who was looking down would see were trees. The game was soon forgotten.

It was magical, that grove. The street, a busy one, was only few meters away, but you’d never know that from where we were. Around us, people walked, laughed, kissed, sat, pondered, but in our grove none of that mattered. It was hot so we took our shirts off. We balanced on logs, pushing and catching each other, while listening to Ariel’s ring tone, “I Kissed A Girl,” a song that I strongly dislike, but at the moment it didn’t really matter. I would try to snatch her phone away, to end the song, and it became a game, neither of us really caring who won.

I don’t really remember exactly how the time passed, but it did. Looking back, I don’t remember much, really, simply that it was wonderful. But all too soon we had to leave. ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Lara had to be somewhere by 4:30 or 5; I think it had something to do with swimming, and other people had other commitments as well, so we had decided to be back at my house at 4. So we sighed wistfully and returned to the future. We gathered our stuff, put our shirts back on, and, since we weren’t sure exactly how we’d come, used a different path up to the busy street. It was steep but short, and we all knew we had each other’s backs. I went last, no one to catch me should I fall, but Ariel, who had been in front of me, offered me a hand. I declined the offer, but smiled to show my thanks. And I knew that had I needed her, any one of them, they would have been there for me, and I for them. It was a perfect moment, the closest I’ve ever come to a perfect day. We strolled, arms around each other, toward my house, laughing and yelling at the rude drivers who cut us off as we were waiting to cross the street. Well, actually, I did most of the yelling (I get REALLY pissed when drivers ignore me just because I'm a young girl—isn’t that even more of a reason to stop?), but everyone got in the spirit, and we were soon chorusing bad names as car after car sped by us. Soon I just stepped out into the street, hoping that the people driving would realize that hitting me would cost them more time than actually stopping (god forbid) would. Apparently they did, as I was not hit, and we finally managed to cross the street. On our way to my house we passed Jonah’s house (which is a block up from mine), and decided to stop by and say hello. I felt a little guilty for just dropping in unannounced, but I figured that we could just say hello, and that would be all right. None of my friends would climb the stairs with me to get to the door, so they waited huddled together as I nervously contemplated the doorbell. Normally, I would never have had the courage to actually reach out and ring it, but I was feeling brave, invincible. Nothing could ruin this day for me. And for once, nothing did.

Nicky, Jonah’s mother answered the door, and the moment she did my nerves evaporated. I’ve always been comfortable with adults, and I was glad that I had been the only one brave enough to ring the bell. Anyway, I knew Nicky (I carpool with Jonah, and his mom takes me home Tuesdays and Wednesdays), and she’s very nice. I said hello and that we had just wanted to stop by to say hi, and she looked passed me to the others, and I waved them up. They came reluctantly, full of nervous energy, no one wanting to be first. Nicky invited us in, and took us out to her garden, which she had mentioned wanting to show me a couple of times during carpool. She gave us all snap peas that she was growing, and apologized for not having any more. Here my guilt deepened; I felt bad that I had come into her home uninvited and then eaten all her snap peas, but I knew that, although she thought it strange, she was glad we had come, and was honestly sorry she couldn’t give us anymore peas. I felt like I was taking advantage of her, but I knew that hadn’t been my intention, so I felt ok. We went back into the house, shouting up hi’s to Jonah who was upstairs doing homework (he later confessed to Ariel—I think a tad smugly—that he had actually been hiding in the closet), but he didn’t respond or come down. Nicky said that it was just a “stage” he was going through, and then laughingly added that five teenage girls showing up at his house is any teenage boy’s worst nightmare. I didn’t have to look at the others to know what we were all thinking: Nightmare! That was a dream come true. Five incredibly hot girls like ourselves showing up at a boy’s house? No, definitely not what I’d guess to be a guy’s definition of a bad dream. But no one said anything, and we thanked her and left, grinning to each other on the way out. No sooner had the door closed then Ariel stated what we’d all been thinking, that if five incredibly hot (I added that part) guys were to show up at my house wanting my attention, that would definitely not merit the definition of bad. We spent the remainder of the walk (not long, about a block) discussing what we’d actually do in the unlikely event that five incredibly hot guys (we all agreed that those five would not be anyone we knew at the present) arrived at our doorstep, the possibilities getting more lewd and outrageous as we went on.

The conversation ended abruptly as we reached my front door and I struggled to find my key, lost in the many pockets of the overly large backpack. It didn’t even cross my mind to ring the doorbell (my dad was home). I finally found it, after a few minutes of searching and some extremely unhelpful tips, grinningly delivered from my friends. We went up the long staircase to my second-level flat, and spent the remaining time waiting for parents playing Bananagrams, a game like scrabble, only you make your own crossword puzzle using the tiles. And when it was time for people to leave, we complained and negotiated as usual while clinging desperately to each other, but inside, each one was too happy and content to let it bring us down.

I don’t remember what I did the rest of the day. Probably nothing; computer, homework, music, reading. Normal, everyday stuff. But that day was anything but normal. It’s the kind of day that I will always remember, always have in my heart. It’s the kind of day that almost seems unreal, and in a way it was. In that grove, we were free, truly free, nothing could touch us, nothing could harm us. We were completely in the moment. I think that was the only experience that I’ve ever had where I’ve been completely in the moment. Our actions and activities weren’t even that special, only existing, together, completely at peace, which is very rare, and is such a gift.

And I think I really helped her. Rebecca, that is. I think she realized that she is of value, and that there are people who are there for her and always will be. I saw a definite increase in her mood after that day, and she was also much more talkative and quicker to share anything that was bothering her. I don’t want to put words in someone else’s mouth, but I think that day was just as special for her as it was for me.

And one of the most amazing things is that I made it all happen. I organized the day start to finish, and without me it never would have happened. It’s invigorating to know that I can create a moment of such, by my own definition, perfection, and be able to share it with those I love. It makes me feel free, boundless. Limitless. It’s like listening to the rain fall, and knowing that the same drops hitting the pavement outside your window have been all over the world, touching the hands and faces of a million different people for thousands of years. A drop of water, so small by its self, with the possibility to be endlessly huge, ever changing, never fading, giving life to all who encounter it. And I know that I am not endless, as is no human, but as I sit here, typing at my computer, listening to the rain fall outside, I realize my full potential to give life. And when I say this, I don’t mean my ability to keep someone from dying. I mean the ability to help someone make their life that much better. To help them truly live, no strings attached, for just a day, or even a few hours.

To be utterly and truly free.