Do you remember the first time that we met? We always attribute our trio coming together to the day when I was stung by the bee, but I know that we had all seen each other before then. I guess, we must have been about five, and it must have been in the neighborhood at some event or another, but I can't remember specifically the day the two of you entered my life. It's like you were always there.
Anne, you and I did not start off so well. I was extremely shy and quiet. You were extremely confident and loud. I told my mom that I couldn't play with you, because you talked too much, and you were too bossy. Honestly, you terrified me. It's funny to think of that, though, now, because so much of who I am indirectly comes from you. I listen to myself talking sometimes, and I can see you in so much of what I say the gestures I make. "I mean, basically..."
Sarah and I had our fall-outs too, if you remember. For several years, Sarah and I endured a very tense love/hate relationship, because both of us wanted to be your best friend... as if there was no greater accomplishment than to be your number one.
Eventually, our personalities balanced out as some of your weirdness rubbed off onto me, and Sarah and I learned how to share a best friend. The three of us were inseparable. My family began to casually refer to us as the Purple Raindrops, and we became slightly less popular with the neighbors for invading their personal space with our pond-clean-up club; however, I am sure that they were very fond of the sticks we sold to them- at very reasonable prices, I might add.
Without each other, we may have never discovered some of our more creative abilities, such as song-writing, play-writing, singing, dancing, and acting. Seriously... do you think you would be a nursing major, if not for our bug-rescue program? How could I have discovered my passion for writing, without the incredible novels, such as Lost and Found? Sarah could have never gotten into VCU arts, if we hadn't gotten practice from selling our masterpieces to the nice ladies driving by our house. And how about our incredibly normal and not awkward social skills? How would we have ever learned to accept diversity without being abused slaves in colonial times? Don't forget being psychiatrist during Barbie soap-opera hour, socializing with elves and fairies, and practicing our language skills with the very useful dictionary we made up ourselves? We could have never made it!
To be honest, I really don't think we could have. Who else could stay up for hours on the phone with me, while I cried about a boy? Who else would come to Sarah's house, when she had the chicken pox, to put on a puppet show? Who else would pass an apple back and forth among three people, sharing spit and germs and who knows what else, just because it was something to do together?
It's been different, though, in the last few years. High school came, and there were parties, dances, and dating... other things to do and other people to do them with. I had to learn to let you go a little, to let you start to go your own way. I went from being your "number one" to "one of many," and it was hard... but not as hard as it is now, as you prepare for college.
I know how much it would hurt to part with someone so close to me, but I didn't know how to handle it. You may not have realized it yet, but we both dealt with it in the same way. During this last year, our encounters became scattered, planned, less intimate and fun than they had been. We didn't spend hours on the phone anymore, and we didn't rush to tell each other every detail of our days, like we used to. Subconsciously, we both knew that it was much easier to leave your best friend, if you didn't have one... so that's what we made happen.
The connection that two, or three, people form over a lifetime is not something that can be replaced, nor is it something that can ever fade away completely. There is no one in the world who knows me quite like you do, and no one ever will. It is impossible to let someone go when they mean as much as you do to me.
After all these many, many years, you are still my best friend, and I know, now, that you will continue to be, but it is time for me to let you go and move on with your life. This time, though, it doesn't feel so bad. I know you so well, and I believe in you so much. I am lucky to have been able to watch you grow from the silly, quirky little girl you were then, to the beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated woman that you are now. You were meant for great things, Anne. I have always known that, and I am so excited to see what you will do with the many, many gifts God has blessed you with. There is no doubt in my mind that, whatever path you chose to take, will be fantastic!
Annie, our lives are turning out a little differently than we had planned. I don't think we are moving to Africa. I have no desire to move into Sarah's garage with the homeless men off of Forest Hill, and I'd rather not have a one-night-stand with a delivery boy. It doesn't look like we'll marry brothers or have a triple wedding. Our kids probably won't be the same ages; it may be a little weird if they all marry each other, and I hope to God that we don't become the crazy old ladies who make bird calls and wind up in other people's yards. We're still not famous; I doubt you'll have twenty kids, and living 200 + years is going to be tricky... but hey, with the three of us, anything is possible.
One thing is for certain, though... best friends forever.
I love you... Happy Moving Day
Mary Christine Searls 8/27/09
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