Personal Narrative : My Best Friend

And then she turned to me. I felt special that she had saved me for last. I smiled at her, and she did the same to me. We had grown inseparable over the past few years especially, but now it was time to say goodbye. I knew at that point that nothing at all would change, that we would still be sisters, still be best friends, still be inseparable. Who cares if we’re 5 ½ hours away? This was us.

All of this didn’t hit me until that very moment. The many things that were going to change so suddenly coursed through my mind. She wasn’t ever going to live at home anymore. I wasn’t going to be able to walk down the hallway to ask for advice on what to wear to school the next day, or ‘borrow’ her clothes for special occasions, and no more late night drives on school nights, blaring music. She opened her car door and gave me a big hug. I looked at her and in my mind I told myself that I wasn’t going to cry, seconds later it was like a broken dam, I burst into tears. That next few minutes was full of reassurance that the room down the hall would still belong to her, she would always be there to give me fashion advice no matter what, and there would still be many late night jam sessions to be held. “I need to get on the road so I can get settled into my dorm room and meet my roommate, but again, I’ll be one facetime, text, or call away,” she assured

I was filled with wonder as I went to school on a Thursday morning in May knowing that when I was to come home my best friend of 7 years would be there waiting in order to take me to Colorado. Brenna is my best friend that had moved from Belle Plaine, KS to Monument, Colorado over winter break. So the school day went by tremendously slow, it had been the slowest day of the year for me. Every 30 minutes I’d look at the clock counting the minutes and hours till 3:25 in the afternoon. Although when the time did reach 3:25 pm It was like holding a dog back after tossing a treat, I leaped with joy out of my seat, out the school doors, and ran home.

The scent of dog treats lingered in the kitchen. A heap of dog food on the bowl. The house decorated like always, the long brown couches, the ornamental red and gold rug, the plants in their intricate tall glass vases. Misty bumped into everything, the decorations threatening to fall. Her once shining brown eyes were now clouded over with her blindness. I would never forget how she was before though, my farthest memories were of her. I hugged my grandma goodbye and pet Misty, promising to be back the next week to give her more treats. But I broke my promise.

“Okay sissy, don't cry,” she pleaded.  I knew the day was coming up, but I tried not to think about it.  She was my absolute best friend and I could not imagine living 1,300 miles away.

Looking back, I remind myself that friends are temporary, but memories are forever. This was going to be our last night together, Cesli and I. Cesli Crum was my best friend that I met in third grade. That year came and went, and though in fourth grade Cesli was held back, we still vowed to always be best friends. Then, that winter of two thousand fourteen, her family decided to move away. I felt devastated, so my mom agreed to have Cesli over one evening right before she left. Thus that is what brought us to be hanging out in my living room.

Raising my head from my book all I could focus on was him. The way he stared at his paper, his pencil flowing across the thinned lined paper. The sweat was now building on his forehead and I could see his light blue eyes every so often glance up at the clock. I was done within the first 20 minutes but now with 5 minutes left I could see he was really struggling. I sat there as the time wound down realizing that he would never look at me like the way I look at him.

A few months before my eighth birthday, my best friend started to avoid me a lot. I didn’t know what happened between us because we do everything together. I started to wonder was it something I did? What did I do to make her hate me? Then the next day I went up to her and said “why are you avoiding me?” She responded, acting like she didn’t know what I was talking about. We argued for a while about how she was ignoring me. She finally accepted it and said “Yes, I have been avoiding you, but you know the reason why.” I was thinking to myself for a long time and still had no idea. “Well you will be leaving me in November and moving across the world from me!” she screamed sadly. Then I remembered that I never told her I was moving because I was finding a way to tell her that I was moving. She figured it out because she overheard her parents talking about it. I started explaining why I would not tell her which was because I was trying to find a good way to say it. “Well I was avoiding you so you can forget me and not be sad about leaving India” she said sadly. I gave her a hug and said “we are going to have so much fun before I leave and I will never ever forget you.” After that day, I learned that I should never be angry at someone before I know why they are mad. If I was in my friend’s position, then I would have done the same thing. I should have just told her instead of waiting. Two characters from Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck went through the same thing about

It’s been ten years since the tragedy and if someone were to ask me about that day, I still get shaken up about it. By “that day” I mean the day I ran home to find my yellow lab, Jesse, lying helpless in the middle of the road. The image of her lifeless body laying there remains to haunt me from time to time and it’s a nightmare that i can’t seem to shake.

March 22, 2006, should have been a regular Wednesday for me. Me being in first grade, a regular Wednesday was to wake up at 8 a.m. to my father turning on my lights, and spiritedly but annoyingly singing, “Wake up, wake up!” Wincing at the light and my father's terrible voice, I was always able to wake up in order to shut him up. However, the most memorable part of this day was not during school but rather what happened later that day at home. It was my father’s birthday. My father was turning 33 and my mom had a little surprise for our family. To this day, I am not too sure whether my father knew it was happening or not, but my mom walked in through the front door holding a 10lb cream-colored standard poodle. My mom placed her on the dining room table; tail-wagging, tongue out, and super energized. Standing there in awe due to pure shock and astonishment, it was a moment I will always remember. I met my first true best-friend. It wasn’t just some friend though, this dog became my family. Chelsea was the smartest dog I knew, being able to understand our commands (In Russian of course, as we spoke that at home) at the age of 2. I was able to teach it hand commands, like raising my hand in front of me as if telling someone to stop, which signaled sit. Lay down was me waving my hand down, as if petting a dog in a vertical motion. Chelsea was a one of a kind dog to say the least, bringing joy and comfort to a growing family. My dog perfectly fit the stereotype all poodles have.

It was a sunny day in the summer before my senior year and I was with two of my best friends, Dallas and Bryce. We had been gathering wood skids for our bonfire later that night. We got done around 3 in the afternoon and we had nothing to do, so we played video games for a little while. We soon became tired of playing video games, so we decided to go work on Dallas’s old 1984 Chevy pickup truck. Shortly after installing new parts, we decided to ride his dirt bike. Little did we know, this would soon result in a memory that we will never forget.

As I was leaving the San Francisco Middle School after basketball I began my walk home with my best friend Jeffrey, but I like to call him Jeff. We were so thrilled that it was Friday and we had so many things we wanted to do at my house, so Jeff and I began sprinting home so we could have all the time we wanted.

As a child, I considered myself to be painfully shy. As I have grown older, I’ve determined for myself that I am simply introverted. Combine this with my Asperger’s and I was a kid with few close friends. Luckily, I was never bullied to my knowledge, but it seemed like I invested everything in a single person or two. This was a bit problematic. Around the beginning of middle school, I began homeschooling and my best friend at the time moved away to Germany. We tried our best to keep in contact, but when you are a whole world away, it is a hard task to keep up with. My other (and current) best friend was still in my life though and she has been instrumental to helping me grow as a person and actually reaching the point where I became able to make a larger network of friends.

I remember the first time I saw her. She seemed so happy, so sure of herself. That, I thought, is what I want to be a part of. To my luck we soon became friends and I tried so hard to not mess it up. I wanted to spend my time with her, I wanted her to spend time with me, I knew from the start that I wanted her to be my best friend. After talking for a little while and gaining her trust we did become closer, but not by much, and not by enough.

Come let’s get back to our hotel as I need you more than anything else. I could see she knew something was not right, but for the moment she saw I needed her. That night I held her so much she was worrying, and I had to force myself to let her go.