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Sufferer of severe wanderlust, owner of freckles, lover of rain and rock music.

Message to Readers

Hi, I'd really like any feedback you can give on how I can improve my piece I'm whatever way! Constructive criticism that I can build on, and maybe improve before the deadline (soon, I know!). Thanks!! :)


February 15, 2016

 If someone wanted to trace the exact origins of our friendship, they'd have to go back approximately 14 years and 6 months. I was a year and 6 months old, and you two were 2 years and six months and 5 months old respectively. I think it was foreordained that we meet each other. Fate. We had barely existed at all before we had met. That day on a bus sometime in the middle of a hot August month started it all. 
    We lived in the same apartment for four years and a half, of which I remember close to nothing. A birth, a celebration, a parting... After we left that building, and that country, we both moved to Qatar, that hot, deserty, summery, wonderful country. We lived down the street from each other. Sunshiny days filled with sneaking down to the corner store to buy the spiciest chips, the sourest candy and the fizziest drinks. Occasional pranks, imaginary villages and wild jungles, fights and fun with 5 assorted siblings, hysterical crying and laughing, water balloon wars, Little House on the Prairie, tag, and proclaimed boredom filtered days. Many days during those blissful ten years I can pick out perfectly, but some of them rush by, blending together, blurring. 
    We danced in the rare rain in the middle of the street in front of my yard. We sweated and fanned ourselves in the ever present sun. We ran screaming around the neighborhood parks, had swing races, and read books by low light; dancing and writing. We dreamed and plotted. Meeting at midnight, jumping in the pool fully clothed, traveling...Many of those didn't come true, but we contented ourselves with re-planning them. We were always excited to get older.  
     We lived through the beginning phases of awkward puberty. Freckles, dimples, glasses. Bras and periods and all the other pains that come with growing up as girls.
    One day, you came to my house. You were moving. From Qatar to Canada. Doha to Vancouver, British Columbia. Asia to North America. Across the seas, a different continent, another time zone. We joked and laughed to ease the pain inside of us that was burning a spot in our chests. We ate, we laughed, we sang. We did things that we had never done before like going clothes shopping by ourselves and ordering takeout. We went late night swimming and washed the hidden tears away. But in between that were broken, deep silences. Everything was wrong and nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right again. 
    It was an early spring morning when you left. Crisp, bright, and breezy. We smiled but couldn't talk. Our throats were blocked up with goodbyes. I hugged everyone but I hugged you last of all, longest and hardest. I stood on the doorstep leading to a house as familiar to me as my own for the last time, seeing it blurrily as I ran out. 
    It's been almost two whole years since I have last seen you other than behind a computer screen. Since then, much has happened. You've moved again and I've moved numerous times as well. We've grown up. At least a little. At least on the outside. Even though we are more mature in many ways, on the inside we are still the same little kids and hopefully always will be. 
   We have grown even stronger together since you left. Not many people can say this. Our friendship will last forever. I look forward to your constant emails, messages and calls. 
    The next time we see each other, we will hug and kiss, laugh, dance, sing, run and cry. We will eat and explore, and do everything there is to do. And then we will do it again. We will plan, and this time everything will come true. But in between all of that, we will sit, we will reach for each others hands in quiet and the three of us will smile. We will feel the sun on our faces. And we will remember. 
    The next time we see each other, we will recognize each other. Our hearts and souls will, because they are the very best of friends; they've been through a lot together. I miss you. 
~Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends~


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  • February 15, 2016 - 12:33pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Lola Mae

    I cannot describe how precious this is. This reminds me of all the friends I had as a child that age, who I wish I hadn't lost contact with... This piece of writing seriously amazes me. It's descriptive and powerful and emotional and sweet, and rings true of the childhood innocence that makes most feel as nostalgic as I do right now. Congrats on this! (PS: Thanks for your comments on my post, they made me cry.)

    over 2 years ago