Thundercats Rule

I have very few memories of my friends from elementary school in Houston.
I remember, vaguely, the school—it was Wilcrest Elementary, and we were the Wilcrest Wildcats, or something like that.

This was first or second grade, maybe.

One of the closest friends I had there was Josie. I only remember her because every day, she would trade me her chocolate milk.

One of the playground games several of us played together was Thundercats, after the cartoon that was popular at the time.

I would always be Cheetara—or at least I think that was her name.

I didn’t have to be Cheetara. I wanted to be. I got to pick. I could have been Lion-O if I wanted, or one of the others.

Josie would play Snarf. She didn’t care that I picked the only girl character from the cartoon.

I don’t know if I chose her because she was a girl. She was a cheetah—and fast.
I remember that was a reason.

She also stayed back from fights.
She came in to protect the group while Lion-O did his sword-make-me-grow-up thing.

She had a bo—a fighting stick—instead of a sword like all the others.
I liked that too.

I had the prop sword of Lion-O at home.
The one where the center jewel would light up if you squeezed the handle,
and it could extend just like in the show.

In retrospect, she was a protector.
Maybe I latched onto that as well.

My friends never questioned it.
My parents never got it.

I was the girl Thundercat.
I was Cheetara.