Amistad

When I was young and, I guess, what you'd call a kid. I had this friend.

No, friend, isn't quite right...best friend? Yes, but even that seems to understate it. Compatriot.

On it's face, that may not seem too special. So what? Everyone has those.
Well, this friend was a girl. She was as pretty as you can image any young woman can be and just a tiny little thing. She lived on the other of side town...some would say, the wrong side of town. She went to a rough a school and lived in an ugly neighborhood. Me? I wore braces and felt insecure. My father was a doctor. We lived in a rather nice house and lived a comfortable life. I went to a private Christian school.

There was very little similar about us...or so it seemed.

I, honestly, don't remember how I gained the courage to talk her. Once I did, she changed my life forever.

We bonded. Fast. People talk often about how they "click" with someone or how they "hit it off." She and I were like two trains speeding along and pulling up next to each other. Every car was in the same place, every window matched, even the engines thrummed at the same rate...that's how we were.
We would sit on the phone for hours, literally hours, talking about what...I can't even imagine now. I remember hiding in the darkness and whispering so my parents would not hear me talking to her. We could not talk to each other enough. Our fears, our hopes...our nightmares....were things we shared.

Anything. Everything.
Then one day...the tracks we rode split, veering in sharply different directions. It was a hard and blunt turn without warning signs. 

She was moved away.

Other things happened too (private hurts...things I will not share. Those are for me and her only to know).

We went our different ways and it was the single hardest pain I have ever endured...to this day. Over the years, I carried a little spot in my heart reserved for this friend. (Okay, it's more than a little spot.)

But the thing is...you cannot replace a friendship like that. I have worried and ached for this friend. My concern for her was like a ghost standing outside my door. I have wondered what her life was like. I have hoped for the best and feared the worst.

Some, my age, would laugh and say such an idea is strange, harmful. I should have let it go long ago or sought therapy.

Maybe.

But then...twenty-something years later...

I got a message...

...from her.

She had been carrying the same thoughts, the same worries, the same loving-concern for me. It broke my heart. Truly and honestly it broke my heart. But if it makes sense, I think it may have unbroken it too.

Those two trains from twenty years ago are still running. Now, things like time, distance, and (oddly enough) Internet have made it so those two trains aren't perfectly in sync like they were long ago. (Not to mention the fact, that while it's sturdy, I have beaten the hell out of my train. )

But they have their moments...and this is still new to both of us.

The most important thing of all, she knows where this train is...and it will always be here for her.

Friendship doesn't seem enough to call what we had. I am going to my roots and use the Spanish word for it.

It is Amistad.

When said right, it is beautiful. It sounds and looks permanent.

(I normally post these on Facebook. This is one is just for me.)