When I was 7 years old my best friend moved away. We had established a close bond over the course of the year. He chose to sit by me when we got to choose seats and picked me for games. It didn't matter to me that when he sat by me, we played punching games. I had a best friend! I loved that for Show and Tell he would bring fossils, and at the time I thought it was because his dad was an Archeologist and boy was that exciting! My best friend's dad had adventures where he dug up bones! Well, no, he was a Scientist and rarely stepped foot out of a lab, but you couldn't shake me of the daydream and also, I was biased. He was smart, and I liked smart!
But even more than that, he was kind. Like, really kind. Like, the type of kind you can't make up at 7 years old. You are old enough to act like a terd, and young enough to not care what people think. You are either a nice person at that age, or you are not. Later, we learn to correct things and refine ourselves. My best friend, Kris, came nice. I learned this on one of the many times we romped on the playground. Choosing to hang out with just each other, as was often the case, we either climbed things, swung on things, or wrestled. Seems to be some of the top past-times at recess (besides running around like a maniac) and we were no exception. I even once pinched something pretty sensitive during one of our wrestling sessions, and while he was hurt, he still was nice! You would think I would have really seen it then. But I was a girl. I had no idea what that pain was. I only knew what I hurt only after he held himself while he hopped around! This was even more than that. And if by being a girl I got it wrong, forgive me.
This time we were having a game on the monkey bars. Online it says this game is called "Hang Tough." I think at the time we thought it was called Chicken. Here is what you do: two people from opposite ends meet in the middle of the monkey bars and then proceed to throw their legs around the other's waist to see who can hang on the longest. I don't know which of us suggested it, but being as Kris was the nice one, it was probably me. It sounded like so much fun! So, we did it! It didn't take long before one of us was sprawled on the ground with a bloody nose, and it was not me. I quickly jumped down feeling guilty! The teacher came over to see what happened. My stomach somersaulted. I was in sooo much trouble. He was bleeding! He held his nose up for the teacher to see and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "What happened??!" she asked almost hysterical. If she had looked at me then with my wide eyes and hands behind my back, she would have known without a word. But she waited for him. His hand over his nose he looked at me, then he looked back, and he said, "I just fell down."
I was dumbstruck! She took him to the Nurse’s office and I think I still stood there in shock for some time after he left. He had lied! For me! I didn't threaten him... I mean... I wouldn't have put it past me. But perhaps he saw my fear. Perhaps he didn't. It doesn't matter. He did it to be kind. A feeling flushed over me, and I knew, I loved him then.
A short time later we sat single file in the gym. He sat a few kids behind me, and he made them move down to sit right behind me. I say "made them" but that sounds too harsh for him. Perhaps he asked them kindly. All I know is they moved down and he sat behind me. He had something to tell me. "My parents are getting divorced. My mom and I are moving soon." He had to say it a few times before I understood it. I knew what divorce was, but I could not register the enormity of what he was saying. Him moving sounded too big. I covered my ears with my hands and he shook my shoulders but I don't know what he said after. I couldn't accept it. So he stopped telling me about it. I went on as if nothing had changed.
Only a few weeks later we played on the playground and the teacher approached us to tell Kris his mom was here to pick him up. "Give me a hug since it's the last time you are with us!" She said. He hugged her. He turned to me. "I have a pet ferret if you want to come see it! It's in the car." The teacher said, "I would allow it since it's a special occasion if you want to go." But my grief had hit me. This was real. I shook my head no. I didn't want to say goodbye. I wasn't ready. Another young friend of ours piped in raising her hand "I'll go!" Kris gave me a sad look but nodded. The teacher took them both and the 3 of them turned around and left. (I type this and it still makes me emotional. Why do we do these things to ourselves? I stood there breaking my own heart...)
Anyway, upon her return, the friend told me all about his cool Ferret. "You should have went to say goodbye." I don't know what I said in response. If it was anything it was probably a weird grunt in agreement. She was right. I knew it. I knew it the second they walked away.
For years afterwards I would know this regret. It would ache. My best friend left. He wanted a goodbye and tried to buy us a bit more time. I wouldn't let him. I didn't want to even face it. All I know all these years later is, if I had a do-over, I would let him talk about leaving and his parents up until the last day, I would go see that super cool Ferret that I had only ever heard of in that moment, and before he climbed in the car, I would have hugged Kris fiercely. And there at the end, I would stand there watching in that same shocked way I did when he lied for me, as his mom and he disappeared down the road. I would not waste any minute leading up to goodbye.
Maya Angelou is known to have said:
"We do the best we can with what we know, and when we know better, we do better."
Many continue to quote it, and it's true. Now, I know.
Les'Nspired
