I grew up in a middle class southern subdivision with a golf course.  There were two Italian families, mine and the Ronchetti's across the street, and one black family, the Jones's, next to the Ronchetti's.  Demeca was one year younger than me but she was so funny, just one of those fabulously witty, smart ass kids.  I loved her from the moment we met, and when I moved away in 1982 I lost touch with her.  I saw her one more time, in 1986, after graduating from High School.  She wasn't allowed to visit with me, so I just saw her at the front door, and then left.   I was so sad.

I lost touch with her then.  I never thought I would find her, but a good friend of mine had some access to some public records and found an address for her.  I wrote a long letter, telling her I had been looking for her for years (this was in 2000) and she  called me as soon as she got it.  Lucky for me I sent the letter when I did, because she got it the last day of cleaning the apartment she was moving from.  We talked for hours, and have talked several times since.  I need to call her though, this was a good reminder!