MARCIA ANN Kathy Rowe Marcia Ann was the first person I met in our new neighborhood. In fact, she was a good friend even before our house was completed. I was only four years old when Daddy decided to build a new house for us, and it seemed he and Mommy were always working on it. One particular day in June, when I was left alone, I found myself wandering all around trying to find someone to play with. All my friends were either gone or sick, or had some good reason for not being able to play with me. I felt frustrated, not knowing what to do about my predicament. Then I brilliantly decided to walk over to our new house and see Mommy and Daddy. I had no doubt I could walk over alone. I had been there several times before in the car and it had seemed like such a short distance (eight blocks). I thought I could walk over in no time. So I set out. About 45 minutes later I skipped on to our new cement driveway and greeted my astonished mother gleefully. I explained why I had come and then looked around this new environment. It looked rather devoid of children and I was beginning to think this hadn't been too brilliant of an idea after all. Just as I was about to pester Mommy as to what I could do, I saw a tall little girl smile and wave at me. She galloped over to me on her stick horse and said, "Hi! I'm Marcia Ann! What's your name?" "My name's Kathy." "I live over there," she announced, pointing to a brick house across the street diagonally from us. "Are you making that?", she asked, and squinted at our new house. "No, my daddy is!", I answered proudly. She seemed friendly enough, and I decided it would be fun if we could play together. I guess we had the same idea, because she said, "Would you like to see our new little baby?" I nodded. "Come on, then," she swept her hand in an exagerated motion to follow and galloped off. I trotted behind her, across the street, over the sidewalk, up the front steps and in through her front doorway. There I stopped. Her house was beautiful, all gold and white with the thickest carpet I had ever walked on. Marcia Ann brought her tall mommy out and introduced me. "Do you have a new little baby?", I asked her. "Yahs, we do Kathy. Would you like to see huhr?" She sounded funny, but I was to learn later it was so because she was from Massachusetts, where everybody talked that way. We were ushered quietly into a blue nursery, for the baby was asleep. Marcia Ann and I peered down at her. "What's her name?", I said to Marcia Ann, too loudly I guess, because the baby awoke with a start and began to cry. "Oh deahr!", exclaimed Marcia Ann's mother. Horror crept into me for fear that her mother would be mad at me and make me leave without being able to play at all. But Marcia Ann took me by the hand and led me out of the room and out to their backyard. "Don't worry," she said. "Janis cries all the time! Do you like to play horses?" I nodded happily, for Marcia Ann had saved me! That was the beginning of a short but true friendship. Shortly after, we moved into our new house and Marcia Ann was our first visitor. She and I played often together. Sometimes we played dolls in their basement, sometimes we played library in our den, but mostly we played horses everywhere! Soon she and I became fast friends, inseparable! We spent many nights together for the rest of the summer. Then school started. Marcia Ann enrolled in first grade and I stayed home because she was a year older than I. I would wait and wait for her to get home so we could play. I had found another playmate, Jeanine, and we played a lot too; but most of the time I played with Marcia Ann. That first year in my new neighborhood passed rapidly. Marcia Ann was a very special girl friend to me. She was always so nice to me, and constantly agreeing with me as to what we should play. I don't remember one little argument or childish fight, although I'm sure we must have had a few. But the good times far outweighed the bad times, leaving only fond memories of happy times. The second year, I was thrilled to be able to go to first grade. Many times, Marcia Ann and I walked the two blocks to school together. I made many new friends and experienced many new things, sharing my exciting discoveries with my parents, Jeanie, and especially Marcia Ann. She would always smile politely and sincerely when I told her things she already knew. But she never seemed to mind one bit. Our friendship was indeed special. At the end of the summer, before we went back to school, Marcia Ann didn't want to play horses as much, and seemed more content to read or play dolls quietly inside. Even at my birthday party a week before school, she was quiet and not as anxious to play games with us as she usually was. 1 wondered if it was because she didn't like me, but it developed into much more than that! When school started, Jeanie joined our walks to school, for she was just beginning first grade. Jeanie and I gabbed all the way to and all the way back from school, but Marcia Ann was even more quiet. We tried to include her in our game of horses at recess, but she just smiled sweetly and shook her head. It is sad, but as children often do, they tend to ignore others who don't participate with them, and I was no different. I thought Marcia Ann had changed and was no longer interested in being friends. But I knew in my heart that this was not the way she wanted to be. I could feel her strong desire to be herself again. But something was holding her back. Then one day, Marcia Ann didn't walk to school with us. That day grew to a week and the week grew to a month. Many times I went over to her house after school, sometimes with Jeanie, sometimes alone, to see if she could play. But her sad eyes, always regretful, would tell me she couldn't. A couple of times when Jeanie and I were playing outside on our front lawn, I happened to glance over at her house and saw her peering out the window at our playing. She seemed so forlorn and dejected. It was really a sad sight to see. This went on for one more month. Then, close to Christmas time, on a beautiful, clear, sparkling Saturday, I tromped through the newly fallen snow to give Marcia Ann her Christmas present. Most of the kids were out sledding or building a snow man with their families, but no one was out in the snow at Marcia Ann's house. I knocked on the door and Marcia Ann's mother answered. "Can I see Marcia Ann?", I meekly asked. "Hello, Kathy. Yes, but only for a short while. Come in." She went to get Marcia Ann. When Marcia Ann came into their beautiful living room, she was in her pajamas and she was very pale. She smiled as big a smile as her weak little body could muster and tried to say cheefully, "Hi, Kathy!" "Hi, Marcia Ann. I came over to give you this," and I held out the present. Her hands were trembling as she took it from me and murmured, "Thank you. I don't have yours yet." "That's OK," I said. "How's school?", she asked, attempting to prove she wasn't as weak as she seemed. "Oh, fine." She hesitated. "How's the snow?" "Oh, real fun," I exclaimed, not too enthusiastically, for I did not want her to think she was missing very much or she would feel bad. "Well," said her mother, "I think Marcia Ann had better rest now." "I have to go home anyway. Mommy told me not to stay very long." "Bye, Kathy," Marcia Ann said sadly but with that sweet smile. "Bye, Marcia Ann." That was the last time I ever saw her. I went over several times after that, but she was always at the hospital for tests. So I decided to ask my mother just exactly what was wrong with Marcia Ann. "She has a disease called Leukemia," Mother explained. "It's a bad disease in the blood in Marcia Ann's body, and she'll be real sick for quite a while." "Will she ever get well, Mommy?" She didn't answer at first, and then said carefully, "I don't know, Kathy." I turned quietly and went to my room. About two months later, when I came home from school, my mother was sitting in the kitchen. I put my notebook on the table and went over to her. "How was school, honey?", she asked. "OK," I answered. She paused, then said quietly, putting an arm around me, "Kathy, Marcia Ann died this morning." I instinctively put my arms around her neck and laid my head on her shoulder. "Is she up in Heaven, now Mommy?" "Yes, dear. One of the last things she said was that she was going to see God." I hugged her neck tighter and said softly, "She's happier now, Mommy, I know she is!" The funeral was three days later, and I was one of four little girls chosen to be an honorary pallbearer. I don't remember too much, except that I had to kneel a lot because it was a Catholic funeral. But after it was over, Marcia Ann's mother came over to me and, tears still in her eyes, handed me a small giftwrapped box. "Marcia Ann wanted me to give this to you. It was her Christmas present for you." I opened it when I got home and found a dainty pearl necklace, which I wore for about two weeks, never once taking it off during that time. I still have that necklace, the one tangible momento among all the intangible memories of my dear Marcia Ann.