When I was a very little kid, probably 5 or 6, my mom always read me storybooks to help me sleep. Our shelf was filled with various books, ranging from the well-known classics like Oliver Twist to my mom's personal favorite, The Very Lonely Firefly. Mine was a book from Ellen Walsh, a story about two teeny tiny mice who went on an adventure to solve mysteries.

Dot & Jabber.

It wasn't very widely known, not like the infamous Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, of course, or their contender, Hercule Poirot. But for a while during my childhood years, Dot & Jabber were kind of my... role models.

Yeah, yeah. Try telling your elementary school class that your superhero was a pair of mice and see if you didn't get laughed at. That was also how I got my nickname, "hams." Which didn't refer to the thinly sliced meat, but to the adorable animal: hamster.

Aside from... well, I kind of resembled one.

I used to ask my mom a couple times a week to read me stories about Dot & Jabber, despite memorizing the story plots by heart. It never failed to amuse me how such little creatures had abundant curiosity about the world, and the capability to find out about it.

So, imagine my glee when I made a new friend in middle school who was also an avid fan of Dot & Jabber!

My mom stopped reading to me after I graduated from elementary school, due to my request, of course. It was kind of embarrassing. I felt like I was big enough to sleep on my own without a bedtime story. Besides, I preferred sleeping a little later than usual, joining adults conversation or stayed up with my dad to watch sports ㅡ which I didn't actually understand, I just cheered when he did.

However, despite the lack of stories consumption, I still kept Dot & Jabber close to my heart. So, during English class when we had to retell a children book in front of the class, and this one person who just moved to town told us about two mystery-solving mice detectives, I immediately went to her seat after class and asked her to be my friend.

There was no doubt we would be best of friends later on, spending the rest of middle school years sticking to each other. Some of our friends called us peanut butter and jam, the rice and the pot (I found this one highly peculiar, but I'd seen more bizarre pairings in my life, so I'd let this one slide), the two ronnies. Point was, we'd always go together. When there was her, there was me. And vice versa.

We, however, called ourselves Dot and Jabber. Not only to honor our childhood heroes, but also we both had the same hobby ㅡ solving mysteries. Most of which we created ourselves, some of which were from friends who knew of our little plays. She was Dot, the leader, the one with the brain power to connect the dot (ha!) And I was Jabber, the playful assistant who asked questions and offered clues. 

For a few years, the highlights of my day would be after school, when we'd gather at my tree house, papers all over the wooden floor where we'd jot down our clues and theories. 

Until my Dot moved out of town in high school. Technology wasn't so advanced that time, communication wasn't as easy. Soon, letters stopped coming and phones stopped ringing. Now, 15 years had passed and I'd never heard from her anymore. Not even once.

But I never forgot the excitement of my childhood hobby. Never once I thought of becoming anything but a hero who helped others by solving crimes. So, that's what I became when I grew up. Attending police academy, training hard, following all exhausting tests there were, and climbed my way to be a sergeant.

I wonder how my Dot was doing.