April 5, 2004
My Friend
Fruit, with a sweet smelling fragrance like watermelon and perfume mixed together. Little brown Costa Rico sandals to cover her feet. Long blue jeans, holes at the knees, faded at the thighs, with a ripped brown belt around the waist. Short light blue sheered T-shirt with multi colored flowers around the V-neck shaped collar. Long brown hair, sharp at the ends, with light caramel highlights streaming down from the part of her head. Big silver hoop earrings dangle down from her ears.
A sweet sounding voice and caring gestures; posture hunched over while sitting hands crouched between her legs. Chin always up and looking intelligent. Facing the world head on, not fearing a single thing. Eyes sensitive, big, and blue with a fleck of gray. Smiling with big white teeth, mouth reading as if nothing could ever hurt her. Although, if you looked deep down into those blue eyes you can see a scared girl, but only for a second, then it’s quickly covered back up so you only see exactly what she wants you to see. This is my best friend.
I received an A- on the paper, the teacher wrote next to the minus sign “only because it’s late.” I felt my eyes beginning to water as I remembered how things use to be. That night, I decided to tuck that paper into an envelop, along with an extensive letter addressed to my estranged best friend, 10 months ago. I guess I still haven’t built up the courage to stick a stamp on it and mail it yet, who knows if I ever will. It’s hard to summarize a 12 year friendship, especially a friendship like the one we shared. I’ve never had a friend like her since, and I probably never will. And yet, in a strange way, it’s alright with me. I don’t want to replace her, mainly because I know it’s impossible. Through our unpredictable, and sometimes foggy drive through adolescence, one that was filled with road blocks and detours, veering us off course; we were each other’s light, shinning bright, leading the other back to the road when the direction was too unclear to see on our own. Perhaps we were meant to be best friends only until this moment. Maybe, after 12 years we destine to go our separate ways and let go of one another. And for the first time since we met, stand on our own. Ashley taught me not to dwell on the unchangeable past but to learn from each experience and not hide behind it, but instead accept it, and keep on driving.
Some people go their entire lives without ever seeing a shooting star, just as some live their whole lives never having an unforgettable best friend. I feel lucky to have been given the opportunity to experience both of these mysterious wonders of life. At the time, I didn’t see any relation between Ashley and the shooting star. Looking back, I see the shooting star a bit differently. In certain aspects, it’s helped me understand life, and friendship a little better. I’ve learned that the most remarkable things occur when you aren’t looking and even brief encounters are memorable. Who knows if I’ll ever see another shooting star. Ashley in a way was like my shooting star, appearing unexpectedly, real, and unforgettable. Leaving me with a permanent imprint; marking a moment in time that will never be erased. Even though Ashley and that shooting star are no longer in sight, I’ll carry the memory of them always.
