my first friend in california

Occasionally people claim me as their own. They say, "You are one of us." Sometimes they arrogantly add on, "You may not know it yet." More often than not it seems to be true, but maybe I am open to manipulation. My first friend in California was an 11 year old Vietnamese-American girl. She insisted on becoming my friend whether I liked it or not. She knocked and knocked on the wall of fear and bigotry I had built up until it finally broke down. With her thick glasses and pony tail down to her knees, she insisted that we were to be friends. And she was right, we became the best of friends. Is it that people recognize a kindred spirit, a connection that I am slow to grasp? I often resist, and unfortunately I am sometimes careless with people that have chosen me with such certainty.