At the Edge of Friendship

We were kings of our own domain, ruling those endless summers together. Those summers where time was irrelevant and everything we did was full of meaning, full of adventure, full of a vigor we may never again know. Had we the choice, we would have spent every waking moment together. We fed off each other's spontaneity, zipping from one activity to the next, never worrying about the inevitable future that this one day will end. It didn’t matter, because we had each other to entertain. We were a union unmatched during those days, those days I yearn for once again, but may never have hence.  

I’m not so sure why I am absorbed in this sorrow today. We had our falling out of sorts already. Though not malicious, the distance we have drifted apart is fraught with so much tension, the return to our times of old will never be rekindled. Though here I am, sitting here in my bedroom just thinking of the times we have had together. As the boxes are stacking up higher in my bedroom, boxes filled with mementos of those days, I’ve been struck by a malaise I cannot bear. Every item a memory, every box an era departed. I just wonder if you feel as I do.  

I think I felt this first twinge of anguish when I found the old camera we used to use. I was just getting started packing when I found the little handheld camera we would use to film our endeavors. You’d remember the one I’m sure. I got it on Christmas when we were twelve and from then on, we were movie stars. Oh the ideas we had! Remember the faux adds we would film promoting my portrayal of James Bond, “coming to a theater near you?” What about the ones where we would act and say everything in reverse to see if we would make sense when we edited the video to play backwards? What about our feature length film, our masterpiece? I’m confident you’d remember that one. It was the peak of our genius! Remember? The one where I was the soldier and you were my commanding officer. You taught me, the puny, unconfident geek how to be a great warrior, leading to the climactic covert mission where I neutralized the bad guy, proclaiming, “target eliminated.” It’s funny, because in real life it felt as though you helped me out of my shell in the same way. You were the one that taught me to break loose from the shackles of my timidity and present myself with confidence, no matter what other people thought.  

Although we spent many hours filming whatever antics we came up with, I think our biggest bonding came over the video games we would play and help each other out with. I know that I complained about how much you played these games, at one point in fifth grade it even split us apart for a few weeks, but looking back at it I value all the times we would load up the PlayStation and play for hours on end. We were partners fighting for the common cause of good. We worked together seamlessly when we had to, advancing not only in the game, but in our friendship as well, with each level conquered. Sometimes we would battle each other to see who was top dog. I was never as good as you at these games, yet I know that you’d let me win just so I wasn’t discouraged. This may seem a minor detail in the grand scheme of life, but what you showed me was compassion and honor when you could have just kept me down.  

Digging through my room while packing one of my final boxes, I found that pair of jeans I ripped when we went on our greatest summer adventure. The jeans were hidden under my bed so that my parents would never find them, an aversion to the punishment I knew I would receive had they known.  At the time, I didn’t know the impact it would have on me, it was simply just another one of our undertakings on another unnamed summer day. The summer was coming to an end and we were anxious for adventure before classes started up. The crisp Autumn air was beginning to envelop the city, the sun beaming over the golden fields of sagebrush. To any visitor of the city, the beauty of this time of year in our little dessert town would be breathtaking, but to us it was a call to urgency in completing one of our greatest feats; we were to conquer the ravine next to your house. We had talked about it for months with no action. We had been putting it off for another day during the peak of summer, and when that day finally arrived, we were eager to rush to the ravine together, that little camera in hand in case we found anything worth documenting. The thrill of the unknown was coursing through us. 

When we reached the edge of the abyss, we looked down discouraged. The sheer drop seemed impossible to descend. Gazing down into the field of sagebrush, completed perfectly with the little stream that ran across the bottom of the valley, we knew we had to figure out a way to get down there. Immersed in the shade of the arborvitaes where we stood, the sun illuminated the earth beneath us in a brilliant display, the shimmer of the water dancing back at our eyes among the golden glow of the field. Suddenly, in the corner of our eyes we saw the movement of a rabbit beginning its descent into the ravine. We watched as it carefully scurried down a path it had apparently mastered, a path we knew now was the one we ought to take. We looked at each other without saying a word and walked to the rabbit’s path, a lower grade, yet still fairly steep, entrance into the canyon. The adventure began.  

Trekking carefully down the path, furbished with loose rocks and roots from nearby foliage, we chose each step strategically. He led the way as I followed close behind. At times, when a fall seemed eminent, we would lock arms, supporting each other to regain some stability. The climb down took only but ten minutes, yet it felt like hours as we cautiously plotted our course, saved the other from a fall, and continued, the little stream drawing nearer with each step.  

With about ten yards left, we found an abrupt drop in the path. A miniature boulder had nestled itself in the side of the hill, creating a cliff with a ten-foot drop. There was no way around it. Disheartened, we contemplated turning back and finding a new path to take. It grew apparent this was not an option when we reached the conclusion that if we turned back now, we may never get to explore the ravine. This was our last chance and we had to muster enough courage to take a leap of faith. We crept to the edge of the cliff and surveyed our landing zone. There was a pile of rocks on the right half, some type of bush with thorns to the left. We were dead in the water.  

Unexpectedly, he looked at me and said, “follow me,” and with courageous intensity he stepped back a few paces and ran towards the cliff. He leapt off as I watched in horror, expecting the worst. I couldn’t see him from where I was standing, but I heard his impact and a soft grunt of exhalation. I was frozen in fear when, after a few moments, I hadn’t heard a scream of anguish or an okay from him. When he finally did call up, he said, “What are you waiting for? The water’s great!” I inched towards the cliff to see where he was. He had landed a few feet beyond the thorny bush, in a mound of soft dirt, a spot my own scouting eyes had missed. He explained that if I got a running start the jump really wasn’t that far, and the landing was soft. I simply nodded and took a few steps back. He proved it was possible, which gave me enough confidence that I could do it too. I ran towards the cliff and jumped, my eyes fixed on my landing spot. It was about halfway in my fall that I realized I had misjudged the distance, so when I landed it wasn’t in a pillow of dirt but in the prickly confines of the thorn bush. This is how I ripped my jeans.  

All things considered, I walked away from that thorn bush rather unscathed. I suffered a few minor cuts and would have to continue our journey with a minor limp, but that was a small price to pay for the adventure we found. Walking at the foot of that valley we found various artifacts, from shed snake skins to the skeletal remains of a small gopher. We pranced around the sagebrush and cheatgrass, exploring every feature we had the means to climb or jump to. We chased rabbits and birds around the stream that ran through the middle of the canyon. We skipped rocks in that stream under the dazzling high-noon sun. We even found what we thought was an arrowhead buried in some clay but looking back was probably just a decorative rock. It was an afternoon of pure adventure and ecstasy. It was an afternoon we would never have again.  

So here I sit, surrounded by boxes in a bedroom that will soon feel foreign to me. Move-in day for college is only a few days away. A college in a new town, a college that you will not attend. I acknowledge that the flame of friendship that once burnt so bright is now but a weak glimmer, yet I cannot accept the consequence of what this symbolizes. You were my childhood. Together we seized the days of juvenility with an unrivaled passion. I am eternally grateful for the times we shared and yet this sorrow consumes me. It’s a sadness not only of losing you, my best friend, but of leaving behind the era of my life called childhood. Sure, I’m enthusiastic of the endeavors to come, it would be absurd if I wasn’t, but with that comes the feeling of loss of times much simpler. I know not what these coming years will bring us. I have a rough idea; we will finish school, we will get jobs, we will get married to our counterparts, and we may have kids of our own. I know one thing however, and that’s the fact that what we had between us is lost to the past.  

At the end of every summer we would have a pool party at his aunt’s house for his birthday. There would be an assortment of pizza and sugary snacks to enjoy. Although there were many other kids there, any onlooker would see two of these children side by side, connected at the hip. One may be splashing the other, or making a joke, but what the observer would undoubtedly see would be two beaming smiles on the faces of these two, slightly sunburnt faces. The end of this summer brings a different story. There will be no kids in that swimming pool, no party, no smiling faces. No, the end of this summer is much different, with it comes a leap into the unknown. We were kings back then, but then again, every empire must come to an end.