Best
Friends Forever
by
Sarah S, ON, Canada, Age 14
We met for the first time at the bus stop almost twelve years ago,
in the
pouring rain the day second grade began. The busses were apparently
cancelled, because they never arrived. Dani Talleson was the new
girl that
year, and so I took the liberty of being the experienced one, graciously
offering her a ride. Dani did in fact end up driving with my mom
and I,
because hers had already left for work. According to my mom, we
spent the
ride talking about the length of our toenails. Since I have no actual
recollection of this, I don’t put too much faith in that story.
But the real
point was, we bonded instantly. When you’re seven years old,
it doesn’t take
much to become friends in a matter of four minutes. Somehow though,
this was
different. This was real. By the time we were making our way to
the swing
set at the other end of the schoolyard, we had declared ourselves
best
friends. Funny, how all it takes is a statement.
“Best friends forever,” we whispered that fateful day
in unison, our
foreheads touching as we locked pinkies. This seemed adequate, despite
its
simplicity. And so, with no more than that, it was official. We
broke apart
and pumped our legs, seeing who could swing the highest.
Time proved itself as our fiercest opponent, as it morphed us into
two
completely different individuals. Dani was outgoing. I was shy.
She was a
writer. I was all about science. She was athletic. I’d consider
myself
anything but. She was tough as a rock. I was dreadfully sensitive.
She could
speak six languages. I spoke one. She considered a computer a big
box
designed to confuse a person. I had taken apart so many of them,
I could
probably fix one with my eyes closed. She liked action movies. I
lived for
the romance ones. In fact, the one thing we really had in common
was our
names. She was Danielle, and I was Daniella. People referred to
us as Dani
Squared, a terrible name that we spent years trying to rid ourselves
of, to
no avail. But no matter how hard the years tried to separate us,
they could
never succeed. We were unlike all the others, unable to be separated
over
something so trivial as our different personalities.
Back on the first day of second grade, forever was the end of the
week, or
month, or year, or however long we were to last. Forever meant nothing
more
than it had to millions of other people. And yet, forever developed
into
something much bigger. Twelve years, to many, is several thousand
forevers.
And so, even as we were jetting off to universities on opposite
coastlines,
we knew nothing could break the bond we shared. We had already proven
ourselves a million times over.
On the last night of summer, as the sun was shining its dying rays
over the
city, Dani and I sat watching from the beach. And then, with the
setting sun
and the city lights as our witnesses, our eyes met, and we both
recognized
the significance of this moment. Our pinkies locked as we stared
into each
other’s eyes, our lips quietly whispering the same words together:
“Best
friends… forever.”
