For Library Spit.
“Mom! Look how high I am!” Tyler giggled as he called for his mother’s attention. He turned back for a moment to look at me. “Push me higher, Bubba!”
That’s what I was to him, an older brother. Tyler was my creator, I was his imaginary friend. But to each other, we were more than that. Tyler was my family. He was the little boy that had endeared himself to me in such a way that only he could be so dear. I was his best friend in the whole world and at six years old, that meant a lot. He insisted that we did everything together and treated me as if I was really there. As an imaginary friend, that was so important.
I made up my mind to be the best imaginary friend Tyler could have. I would never leave his side and I would never hurt him.
Tyler leapt off the swing and ran over to where his mom sat, book in hand and lemonade on the table. He took two huge gulps of lemonade before he came crashing back into me.
“Let’s go play in the creek!” he grinned up at me, holding onto the bottom of my shirt. Smiling, I hoisted Tyler onto my shoulder with a “Huzzah!” and started towards the edge of the woods.
Tyler laughed the joyful, high-pitched laugh of a child. “You’re so much fun,” he giggled.
“We’ll be best friends forever!”
I want to believe that easily spoken phrase, that phrase full of the innocence of childhood and the kind of faith that could move a mountain. But I knew it couldn’t be true. So it echoed emptily in my mind, a reminder that my time was running out. I loved Tyler more than anything, but soon he would find out there were many more playthings he would love more than me.
