Of "girgilla" and 'fingers crossed"

The last few posts have been a little intense and to lighten the mood I thought of writing to you about the innocence that once was. Have you seen how the kids in Junior Masterchef Australia, cross their fingers and hope and pray with every dub-dub of the beating heart that they win. It reminded me of a me that once was.

Do you remember how we used to cross our fingers, toes and pigtails even, just in the pure belief that that, would be what gets us what we want. No reasoning mattered then. We knew in our hearts, the harder you could cross your fingers and the more number of things you crossed the more your chance of getting what you wanted. I miss that faith I had in my tiny little fingers, that would with such ease overlap one another and not give way.

Remember the times girgilla was the worst that could ever happen to you? Id be mortified when the never ending game of 'tag him girgilla' would reach me. Remember how our faces would turn the darkest shade of red, and that solely would be our most embarrassing moment ever.
Remember how coloring within the lines was the hardest problem we were faced with, and how we would sit for hours and try and stay within the lines just so we could get that "star sticker" or "perfect sticker" from the teacher? And the times we did manage to get that sticker, do you remember the pride with which our chest would blow up, and the smile that lit up our entire tiny face.

Remember how cursive writing seemed like such an impossible task and how we used to concentrate on just keeping those alphabets on that straight line, for fear that it would dance about on that page and wouldn't be accepted? Remember how our mathematics books had criss-cross lines on the entire page, just to make sure we could write numbers clearly and not get them all jumbled up in one single mess.
Remember how we needed all our fingers, just so we could be able to calculate the math problem. How we never thought there would be something more difficult than that, that would meet us as 'mental mathematics'.

Remember how we din't like boys, and boys din't like us girls? How drawing a line in the center of the bench seemed to solve all the problems in the world, and how we would sit content at having been able to divide the table into exactly half. The trust with which we used to sit, in all our satisfaction that this line wouldn't let the boy cross over to our side. Remember when being sat next to the opposite sex was the second worst thing that could happen to you, and life seemed unfair. Little did we know how much that would change over time.

I remember there was this bench-partner of mine in the sixth grade, and he used to put little i love you chits in my pencil box. Every time I found this chit in my box, I would be mortified and shattered. After a while it got to me, and I took my revenge for all the 'I love yous' by smacking him with the largest textbook I had. How I wish, to find now, those little I love you notes in my pencil box.

If I could, I would have saved all my stickers to keep me grounded and know that the little things in life mattered the most. I wish girgilla was still the worse that could ever happen to people.
I would love to have the faith I did then, in knowing that crossing my fingers, would solve every one of my problems and get me what I want. I miss the times, when boys were "the enemy" and coloring within the lines my sole purpose of living. If I knew then as I do now, how difficult it is for people to give and take love, I would have saved those chits for the future me to cherish deeply.