Day 1: Best Friend
I fondly remember the years and memories shared between us, from the time that we met at the tender age of... well, was it 13 for me and 11 for you? to the time we live in now, when our adventures are more sparsely scattered but no less important to me.
We became closer friends in high school, supporting each other while we navigated the unfamiliar territory and inhabitants of South Carroll. We were adopted into the best group people we could have hoped for. Oftentimes we were the only Westminsterians, but this suited fine for planning outings to see plays in town, or carpooling to the coffee house. (I never begrudge you the 3457458 times I drove and the 0 times you did. That’s just how we roll.)
Our teachers... goodness, our teachers. Crazy Wilson and his ramblins (accidentally left the g out, think I’ll leave it), literary or not, and his mysterious disappearance; the “ding” of Santana’s microwave, drawing overhead cartoons, Otto von Bismarck; Lois, Susan, Cynthia, Gary... you made me realize how hilarious and disturbing it is to refer to teachers by their first names.
Books. ‘Nough said.
We love to laugh with each other and at each other, and I hope we never give that up. BFFs forevsies! I love you doll face. Let’s keep this thing we’ve got. You know, the thing, this clandestine love affair that we’ll reveal to world when it’s ready to accept us for who we are... Or, you know, the thing that, well, means we’re, like, friends forever. Yeah. Cool.
(P.S. - I do realize that your mum drove us places a few times over the years, for which I am grateful, but including this earlier would have messed up my rhythm, so here it be.)
P.S. to whoever reads this blog - tumblr may join the graveyard of journals I have left behind over the years. Maybe if I knew more people that have one... it would be more fun.