We met when we were five. Her mom was my bus driver. I was nervous. We had just moved to the midwest from Hawaii and I didn’t have a best friend, which I felt was a necessity.

I sat down next to her on the bus and promptly introduced myself. I asked her if she would be my best friend and she said yes.

As the years went by we stayed freinds. We even tried to be blood sisters, by pulling off scabs and swapping blood.

We both had active imaginations and came up with our own world, which we played in constantly. We vowed never to lose our imaginations, a vow I think we both kept.

When we got to old and felt too silly to act out our imaginary world we turned to writing.

She was always the better writer and could come up with the most fantastic tales and ideas. I cherish the times we spent together talking and writing about our latest adventure, at times we’d literally fall asleep pen and paper in hand.

She is like family, loved, but far away. On my mind and in my heart. She is my best friend.