From 11 to 18

Dear Darlene,

It’s me. The person you considered a best friend during middle school. A long time has passed, hasn’t it? Do you still remember me like I remember you today? If anyone ever mentioned my name, would you still remember? The last time I saw you–if I remember clearly–was the last day of 7th grade. I forget lots of things, but somehow, I remember the last time we saw each other.

Do you remember the first day we met? It was the beginning of when we started 6th grade! We were 11 years old at that time–so much time has passed! We were in the same social studies class during the 7th hour period. Our teacher wanted us to get into groups. While I was already with my friend I knew since 4th grade, she saw you sitting at an empty table. My friend wanted us to come sit with you for the first time and include you into our group. From that day on, we became a trio, always sitting and working together. Those were fun times, wasn’t it?

Do you remember our 6th grade orchestra concert? Where I played the Viola, and you played the Cello? We sat just one seat apart in the same row. I still can’t remember if we talked that night or not. But I do remember our orchestra trip to Powerplay, do you recall? I recall fragments–us beginning to interact more, but I remember the moment when you wanted to tell me something about a game. We admitted to each other that we weren’t close yet– just acquaintances.

This all happened just sixth grade–us meeting and having casual interactions.

Seventh grade started; we were both 12 years old. This was the year we grew closer. I came to my math class for 5-6 hour period but was in the orchestra room because the classrooms were flooded. I walked in that orchestra room from 6th grade, sat on the bottom row on my own because I didn’t know anyone there. I sat quietly, waiting for instructions from the teacher. Further into the class period, I started looking around to see who I recognized. Behind me, was you, sitting 2 rows up–on your own, too. When I saw and realized we had the same class again, I was surprised we encountered..

After 6th grade, I didn’t think we would run into each other again, guessing I thought we would go our separate ways, considering that we were just acquaintances the year before. Most people you see in one year, you won’t see the next, especially if you weren’t close with them. But there you were–as if the universe had quietly placed us near each other again. When the second day of class came, I saw you again sitting in the same spot as the day before. I was hesitant, unsure if I should come closer–unsure if you remembered me from last year. You saw my hesitation and greeted me politely. You quietly told me it was okay if I sat next to you. And so, that’s how we started again.

Without realizing it, seeing you again became the beginning of knowing what it meant to have a best friend.

When the classroom was no longer flooded and taught in the normal classrooms, you and I always sat in the back of the classroom. Do you remember the giant storage closet located towards the middle back wall? We sat tucked away behind the rest of the class, just past the rows of desks everyone else sat. It’s like we were privileged. You, sitting on one opposite end, closer to our math teacher’s desk, while I sat on the other side, just a couple feet away from the door. Whenever our teacher would make assigned seats, we never sat there, instead sat in our usual spots. He never cared because he knew we never troubled anyone. Whenever we did worksheets, you always scooted your desk to mine. Even though we hated math with a passion, we got through it together, didn’t we? That class was wild–chaotic in the way middle school classes always are.

Lunchtime was out time, a few brief moments each day where we didn’t have to worry about anything else. The cafeteria was always noisy, buzzing with chatter and footsteps. As when we would walk in as a class, our class had designated tables, close to the black railings, where we would line up for lunch. Once our table was called to go line up, you and I always made sure we were in line together. Some days we were silent, some days we chatted–but either way, your presence was enough to make me feel at ease. Just having you there made me happy. You and I always sat across each other at the end of the long cafeteria tables, away from everyone, while everyone else sat grouped together.

Since you and I were more to ourselves, we just ate in silence, enjoying each other’s presence.

Remember when you gifted me that bear and birthday card? A couple days before, you texted me asking what my favorite animal was. I told you it was a koala. I didn’t think much of the question at the time–just a random question, I assumed. But when my birthday came and I turned 13, I came into class and sat down at our table, and you immediately gave me a gift bag with something inside. I was surprised since I knew why you asked what my favorite animal was. You told me you couldn’t find a koala, but instead gifted me a different animal. I was thankful that you thought of me that day, and realized we were more than acquaintances at this point. As soon as I got home from school, I immediately opened up the wrapped present you gave me. Inside was a small, beige-colored bear with green eyes. It was adorable. Along with it was a card that read, “Happy Birthday! You deserve all the cakes and happiness! Enjoy your day, my friend!” I still remember the round, small handwriting you had, remembering the warmth and happiness I felt reading those words.

We spent the whole 7th grade year together–surely but slowly growing closer, even in silence. Do you remember how every Wednesday, we would meet up at the arena together? I don’t even remember the films we watched, but I do remember us sitting next to each other in the back row, quietly waiting for it to end, so we could head to class.

Those moments didn’t need words–they just felt safe. Like having someone who simply understood.

And our math presentation–do you remember that? To this day, I can still picture us presenting it in class. It was quite funny, since you were the one that was always sarcastic, even though some did not understand. We created a presentation on the next year's students who had our teachers class. This was already near the end of 7th grade. One day in class, you told me that you were moving schools. My reaction back then probably didn't seem upsetting enough, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t going to be seeing you anymore.

I was 13 when I walked in the 8th grade halls without you, I had to adjust with new friends and teachers. Everything felt different without you around. It was an awkward transition, as I felt like I was missing a piece, but I never told anyone. You and I still kept in contact throughout this year, holding our memories we had in 7th grade, realizing it's not what it used to be, but we still adjusted to our new lives without each other. We texted daily, keeping each other updated on our lives and still reminded each other of our birthdays and still shared laughs, even if it was all through a screen.

In March of 2019, when we were 13, COVID hit Kansas and schools shut down. We were quarantined from March to September–six months without school. Even then, we stayed in contact. When we started high school, we entered 9th grade at different schools once again. After finishing the first semester during 2020, now 14 and growing into new routines, I told you at the end of the year, I was moving–not just to a different school, but a new area, 30 minutes away. I finished the rest of my 9th grade year at the new school, adjusting to the new environment and people around me.

Now being 15 at the start of sophomore year, we still kept in touch. Things were different. We still kept in touch, but not as often as before. The daily texts became less frequent, turning into messages every couple of weeks, as if we slowly started growing apart. Because of that, I began to wonder if we were still even friends. I didn’t want to believe we were slowly losing each other, but the distance between our lives made it hard to ignore. There were moments where we did text late into the night, but sometimes, it would take days to finish a conversation.

I realized something too–we never got the chance to hangout during those years apart. Even if I made new friends, I still wanted to make time for you. I know not being able to drive, made it harder for us, and while we always talked about hanging out, we never followed through. No movie nights, no meetups–just words through a screen. I didn’t say anything at first, but it stuck with me.

It felt like we had become more of a memory than a friendship.

At some point during our second semester of 10th grade, a conflict surfaced–subtle, but enough to leave an impression. Maybe it wasn’t a big fight, but more so of a buildup of miscommunication and unspoken thoughts. You wouldn’t reach out for weeks and I wouldn’t either. Or there were times where I reached out but didn’t get a response from you, even though you were active on social media. I held back for a while, thinking it was just being busy, but when I didn’t hear anything anymore, I brought it up. I told you how distant things felt. You said you didn’t realize and apologized. I forgave you. Things went back to normal. For a moment, things felt normal again, like we rewound time and picked up where we left off. But the truth was, something shifted between us, making the silence grow louder. Even though we made up, the distance between us quietly kept growing.

It wasn’t dramatic. It just happened, slowly, and neither of us stopped it.

Junior year started. We were both 16. We still texted, but slowly again, not so much anymore. You and I still had our heartfelt conversations about how we grew with each other over the years, but this happened less and less. Our conversations became shorter–more spaced out, like echoes we used to have that never fully mended. It wasn’t that we weren’t friends–but it didn’t feel like we were, either.

We had grown used to the distance, even if it still left a quiet ache.

Then came senior year–we were 17 years old, two semesters away from graduation. We were both getting ready for what came next: our futures and our college admissions. You were set on Cosmetology, and I was leaning towards Social Sciences. I can only recall us speaking a few times during the entire year, mainly during the first month of school. You still wished me a happy birthday, like you did in years past. But when our last semester approached, you and I suddenly went silent.

The beginning of 2024 was the last time we spoke. We both turned 18 around that time–marking not just adulthood, but the quiet end of our communication line. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and eventually, months into years–no words from either of us.

We are both 19 now, and after a year of not speaking and growing apart, I’ve come to understand, sometimes, people aren’t meant to stay forever–even if they were once your best friend. We grew with each other, shaped each other, understood each other like no one else in school did. We leave marks that last long after the friendship fades. And that’s okay. Not all endings have to be dramatic; some just quietly settle into memories. Whatever life takes you, I hope you’re happy. And I will always remember what we had.

Wishing you the best and happiness,

Your childhood friend

P.S I still have the bear and birthday card you gave me in 7th grade–a piece of the past I still carry.