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 I was flipping through the channels over the weekend, looking for something to leave me happy before falling asleep. I found 13 Going on 30 and settled in for some laughs, smiles and a few tears. Gosh, that one part near the end still gets me (you should know I'm a total sucker for romantic comedies--I'm such a cheeseball). Anyway, after the credits started rolling, I began to think about my childhood best friend. (I actually had two best friends when I was in elementary school, but the other I grew closer to after the first moved away.) His name was Colin, and he was my first best friend. He had this curly dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, and a smile I loved. Thinking about him now, three fond memories come to mind. Second grade was our closest year and, I'll always remember the day he walked into class dressed in black. I went to him asked why he was dressed in black, and he held out a newspaper clipping. His dad had died of a massive heart attack. This was my first time dealing with death. I mean, my grandfather passed away when I was about three years old, but I don't remember that at all. So as a seven year old, hearing the words "heart attack" and "dead" were enough to render me speechless--what was I supposed to say? I looked at him, handed back the article, and gave him a hug. He rested his face on my shoulder. I didn't say anything at all. We always sat together at lunch. Remember those long cafeteria tables? With the benches and tables that were connected? Everyone would squeeze in together, trays end-to-end on the tables. There was one day when I couldn't find him, and he raised his hand from this table full of guys. I mean, this table was packed to the brim with guys. I didn't think much of it because I just wanted to sit with my best friend and have a good lunch. So I happily walked over and squeezed myself in next to him. We were deep in conversation when the lunch lady walked over and asked me, "Why are sitting there?" Colin looked up at the lunch lady and said over the noise, "She's my friend!" I remember looking at him briefly and seeing how he stood up for my being there and feeling... happy. After a pause, I joined him and said, "Yeah! I'm his friend!" to the lunch lady. She kind of rolled her eyes and walked away. It was our last lunch before he moved away. We were in fourth grade. During and after third grade, things became a little different. We were growing, and he was hanging out more with the guys and less with me. I started becoming closer with my other friend, Kyle, as well. But we had one last lunch together. We chose the lunch table near the back. It was empty, but we didn't talk much. He rolled up his brown bag and we hit it back and forth on the table, like a hockey puck. I think there was an apple in there. I said I'd miss him, and I wanted to do a spit pact where each person spits in their own hands and then shakes. I can't remember if we actually did. But I remember asking if he'd keep in touch, and he said yes. I haven't heard from him since then. When he moved away, he moved away. I think it was only to another part of town, but to me, that was like across the country. He isn't in the yearbook since he moved before finishing fifth grade. All I have left are these class photos, with that smile that I love. I've tried looking for him, but I know his mother remarried while we were in third grade (I think) and I can't remember the new last name. But I'd like to think that he's doing well, that his life is good, and that he thinks about his childhood days from time to time and thinks of this girl that he knew. |
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Hi, my name is Amy. Be well, and say hello!
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