I forgot that today is one of my used-to-be-close-friend's birthday. I just fired off a message and, scrolling up, found that the last time we'd spoken had been on July 14, 2013. Hers was the only phone number I had memorized in elementary school besides my own. She was the keeper to my striker and the reason the only shots I ever netted were chips. She and I understood everything, from skimming, lethal handball slices to the never-ending volleys against The Cage to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, to Master Chief and back.
We fired spit balls at our fifth grade teacher from the back row. We wreaked havoc during kickball games. We devoured Brian Jacques together and cried Eulalia at the faintest sign of battle. We kept our hair tied, our jeans loose, our shoes double-laced and ready to go.
Seven years later, and we've now spent more years apart than together. I guess the friendships that seemed so important when we were young really couldn't last because we just didn't understand enough to work beyond just friendship to develop a respect I still can't quite grasp.
I still wish her a happy birthday, though. When I happen to remember.
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