A JEWEL OF A FRIEND

     The opening line of a poem I wrote several years ago read "Once into the diamonds of my life fell a ruby..."  Although this was not written about my best friend, it easily could have been.  For he, too, "stood unique amongst all the others."

      The winter I met him was the worst in the history of the area according to the meteorolgists.  While snow drifted into banks above my head and Arctic winds blew, we cemented our friendship over hot chocolate and warm cookies, in front of a blazing fire.  By the time the spring thaw came, we were inseparable and spent our childhood going from one adventure to the next.  We were dragon slayers; pirates; cowboys and Indians; and alien beings from other worlds, coming to conquer all they saw.  He was always the daring one, staying in the woods one night, eluding detection by the search party that had been formed.  When he was found the next morning I was waiting after a sleepless night, crying tears of joy that he was safe.  I was so proud of his bravery that morning, but also angry that he had scared me as badly as he had.  He was able to join me at my grandparents' farm one summer and that opened new avenues for our imagination.  We filled hot Texas days roaming through the cotton and corn fields, swimming in the muddy waters of the creek, climbing to the top of the willow trees, and daring each other to ride the cows (the cows dared us to try, too!)

     September brought us back to reality and schoolwork.  True to our form though, we would sit together on my big front porch and recite multiplication tables, memorize state capitals, and make elaborate plans on how to dress for Halloween.  When the studies became too intense, or boring, we would rake leaves, only to destroy the carefully constructed piles by jumping into the middle of them.  Sitting on that front porch, we shared the dreams of youth, questioned the wisdom of adults, and promised to be friends forever.  Forever lasted until my early teens.
     Teenage girls were supposed to have female best friends, not some dumb looking guy that dressed funny (I always thought he was cute, not weird).  So, knuckling under to peer pressure, I turned my back on my best friend and immersed myself into makeup, hairdos, and who was dating whom at the high school.  There was no longer the sharing of secrets, anxieties, and unrealistic goals with someone that didn't judge or criticize.  No longer were the transgressions of my childhood diminished in magnitude with the telling of them to my friend.  He, and he alone, knew that I took a quarter from my mother's purse to buy candy, and where I hid the excess (in my dog's stomach).  He, and he alone, knew that I whispered "damn" in church to see if anything would happen (it didn't.....yet).  And he, and he alone, knew the times I watched as my older brother told his girlfriend goodnight (because he was with me watching!).  I missed my best friend, but was too insecure to stand up to my new friends and demand he be included.
     Years went by without my knowing where my friend was, but not without wondering.  One cold Christmas, my friend entered my life again, thanks to my mother.  She had known all along where he was and had retrieved him from the attic, sewed a new skin on him, replaced his eyes, put a big bow around his neck, and hid him in the bottom of another gift.  Teddy and I were together again.  He sits in his own rocking chair in my bedroom now:  a place of honor for my life-long best friend.