A classmate in his early school years often recounted how his father had played with cars well into his teens. It was no wonder, he told his son, just too funny to stop.
We thought it sounded great. Much like Pippi Longstocking’s crumb pills, the ones that were taken to avoid growing up (I also wanted one). Playing with cars was among the best we knew and every thought of quitting and moving on seemed like a betrayal. Pointsless as well – what would be better about it?
But that kind of thinking was enough for me. I remember several times when as a child I swore dearly and sacredly to myself that I should at least never forget this, or I should never be like that. I do not remember anything about it, but I remember the approach, the seriousness.
The failure in it must be double, at least.
Crystal clear, on the other hand, I remember a meeting in the country, with the neighbor boy across the bay. It should have been at this time of year, when an autumn, a winter and a spring had passed since we were last seen and it was time to pick up where we had left off.
If that was what we were going to do. Development goes fast at certain ages and now we were not really the same. How much older had we gotten? What did we have in common now?
The year before, I guess that there had not been much discussion, we just threw ourselves into the tool shed and got all the toy cars that were there and so the adventure began.
But now? The question was asked as if tentatively, we sought each other’s confirmation, but no one was prepared to stand for their will to once again go in childhood and play loose. I hoped he would take the initiative anyway, he probably felt something similar himself.
We stood there as if in a tug-of-war, for a moment that became far too long, before we reluctantly let go of the idea and did something else instead. Whatever it may have been.
We were friends for several more years, but the toy cars were once and for all retired. And my longing to play with them again was paired with an unpleasant suspicion that it would actually not be so much fun; no longer.
Read more kåserier by Nisse, for example about the difficulty of tying the right tie.