7 years old:

Our noses to the ceiling, my back to yours. Whisper-yells fill the room as we try to conceal our argument. Neither of us want to get caught bickering over a raggedy stuffed animal. Our mouths run back and forth, until finally, silence. I’ve given up. My mind shuts down, allowing me to successfully ignore you. That’s how our arguments usually end. I ignore you for five minutes, you say or do something that catches my attention and then we forget we were mad at all.

10 years old:

Our first day of fifth grade, and the first time we go to different schools. Although we never had classes together before, I can feel the emptiness from you not being there. It’s strange knowing you’re so far away, that you’re not in one of the classrooms down the hall from mine. It’s sad to think that I’ll never run into you at recess again. I pray that being at different schools won’t affect our friendship, but in my heart, I know it will.

13 years old:

We’re both asleep on opposite sides of the old couch in my living room, sweating as we lay under our blankets. I never stay comfortable on this couch for very long, but you insist on sleeping in here when you stay the night. I’m too reluctant to complain though, so I remain uncomfortable. Next week we’ll be in your room sleeping instead of my living room, and the week after, back to my house. This is what we’ve been doing all summer, going back and forth, rarely parting from each other. Somehow, we don’t get tired of each other and I find that exciting. I hope we always stay this way.

16 years old:

I push through the crowd in the E-wing hallway, trying to pick up my schedule. Suddenly, I spot you in line at the counselor’s office and a smile appears on my face. We’re back to sharing a school at last. The past three years, we’ve grown apart, and we’ve barely seen each other since the summer in which we practically lived together. But now, my mind fills with excitement. I imagine how much fun we’ll have during our last two years of high school and count in my head how many lunches we can eat together before the end.

18 years old:

Last month you graduated high school. Feelings of relief fill your heart, but in mine, there’s a mixture of pride and fear. The fear that once again we’ll lose touch, and this time we won’t have school to pull us back together. But the fear could never overpower the pride. I am immensely proud of who you’ve come to be, and have complete faith that you will become successful in whatever you choose to do. I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to grow up with you by my side, and desperately wish that our kids will one day be as close as we are.

Thank you for always believing in me and appearing by my side when I need someone to talk to. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish in the future and I hope to be by your side for the rest of our lives.