You come early. In grade school. My best friend, Ann, was moving away to Washington after school let out so we vow to write each other during the summer. We keep our word. I write. You write. Until one time you don’t. Another time you don’t. Farewell.
My best friend, Nellie, after sixth grade moves to a town nearby. During the summer I play in a girls’ softball league and whenever we have a game in that town, I look for her on the other team. We are both good at softball so I know she has to be on one of the teams. But I don’t see her or hear her name yelled from the other team. Farewell.
In junior high I am told we are supposed to act like ladies and gentlemen. We are expected to take responsibility for our actions and we are supposed to do our best, get to class on time even though we have to cross to different buildings and maybe don’t have time to stop at our lockers to exchange books for the next class. I have to carry my morning books all morning. My afternoon books all afternoon. No time to do otherwise. PE, we have to take our uniforms home every week, wash and iron them before we bring them back Monday. Farewell, my child, my me.
In high school my best friend, Cathy, falls in love, drops out of school, gets married. I am her maid of honor. She is so happy! She has a son, and then her husband dies in a car accident. I share her grief with her baby son. We have quiet times, but I am there. Until it doesn’t happen anymore. She is a woman, a widow, a single mother. I’m in high school. Farewell.
High school graduation everyone scatters to futures. My best friend marries (I am her maid of honor). She has daughters, one is named for me as her middle name. She becomes a lawyer. Gets divorced, and never talks to me again. I still send Christmas cards, but never hear back. Farewell.
In college I continue my escape into drama, and befriend Mike on his way to a four-year college after community college. He moves to California, and writes. We write back and forth and he confesses he’s gay, has dyed his hair blonde, and is exploring his newfound freedom. I want so much to tell him my secrets, but I can’t. I give him positive thoughts and listen and write. “Please be careful, Mike.” He dies of AIDS. Farewell.
I have a roommate. Theresa is my best friend from college drama. I drive home one day and make her hurry up and come outside. I want to show her something special. The sunset blasts across the sky. We stand in the driveway and absorb the color until it grays. She accepts a job in Alabama and moves in two months. We write and talk on the phone until we get email. She falls in love, lives with her man, gets older, gets quieter. Farewell.
High school friend, Tonya, ovarian cancer. One cousin, Gary, shot. One cousin, Toby, car accident. Both sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles, Mom and Dad. Farewell family and friends.
I’m here. I’m always here. Our friendships lie in my pocket. Clinging with lint and dust, but I keep you close. My hand is close to yours to grasp if only in an image or thought. Farewell. Fare well, everyone.