“Hi there.”

“Go away,” my seven-to-eight-year-old self, I can’t quite remember the exact age I was at the time, pouted as I hid my face from the person addressing me. I had a bad case of impetigo on my nose, and it was but the first or second day of my brother and I being cared for by our new babysitter. I didn’t want any of the other kids she looked after seeing me with a hideous scab attacking my face, especially this girl, one of the sitter’s three daughters. She wouldn’t budge. Attempting to shake her off, and knowing she had already at least had a glimpse of what seemed to me a grotesque affliction with which I was stricken, I declared, “I’ll only play with those with a sore on the nose like me,” or something to that effect. To my surprise, this was her retort.

“It’s not as big as yours, but I have a sore on my nose too. See?” I turned around to look – what she had was more likely than not a zit that had been scratched at one too many times, but with my third-grade education at the time it was close enough. I don’t even remember the rest of what happened that day, save it be for asking her name a couple of times or so as I went down the stairs to meet my mother at the door. But what I do remember was that that day was the start of a beautiful friendship.

There were few things other than our appearance and our family situations that Alishia and I didn’t have in common. We were raised in the same faith, our birthdays were only about two months and six days apart – we even liked much of the same things if I recall right, and we both got into anime around the same time (mainly by my influence). Of course we had our struggles, especially in our early years. But for every time we swore we’d never talk to one another again, not long after we remembered that her mother’s employment made it to where we kind of had to at least look at each other – and every time we forgave and forgot.

Once my mom had remarried and due to her new husband’s job there was no need for my brother and I to be babysat anymore, we still stayed in touch and remained close. From the few times that my grade’s recess coincided with her grade’s recess at school, to the tradition we eventually developed of calling each other every night at six as we would both watch Dragonball Z and comment on the events in the episode, to sleepovers every chance we got, what turned out to be only a ten-month long end to my mother doing business with hers wasn’t enough to keep us apart. At this time, our fights began to be fewer and fewer until come about sixth grade when they stopped altogether. We were closer than ever at that time, and while we eventually grew more distant come our entry into high school, among my multiple “best friends,” she was and still remains my only BFF.

A lot has changed since then – as previously mentioned we’re no longer quite as close, but even the best of friends grow distant at times. The only time we consciously think to call each other is when one has a birthday or when I want to invite her to a party or sleepover I’m having, most recently the dinner party at a local Benihana following my graduation last week. But just because we seldom talk anymore doesn’t change the impact our friendship has had on our lives, and at least on my end, she’s still with me, “Like a handprint on my heart,” to quote a song from Wicked. Whatever way our stories end (I swear I’m not EXACTLY quoting the song again), she certainly has rewritten mine.

To end with yet a third song reference: “Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better, but because I knew [her], I have been changed for good.”

Life: 05/29/09 | Posted By: cardcaptorryoko | 0 comments | Personal