Leisure spot in the woods, a bear costume, running around trying jerky made from various wild game, cold Caesar’s pizza for breakfast, sleeping in a teepee telling ghost stories.

I remember a lot of details of my childhood friend. I remember either him staying at our house then meeting his parents in a grocery store and asking to stay at his. It seemed like divine simplicity and it was a humorous comfort in a tense school life riddled with anxiety.

I remember the candy glue that he brought to recess and the snow forts we focused on during winters. I remember the Salisbury steaks his family made for dinner and how I wanted another one. The addictive saltiness of it.

I remember the summer air and the dust devil that he spun in as I heard news he was moving and did my best to just imagine it would work out. Having some semblance of faith that the world would not be so cruel as to take my best friend away.

I remember months later the long distance phone calls talking about the Nintendo 64 and how exciting it all was. I remember Arizona being so far away and another world. I remember the news of him moving back

I remember his family moving back and finding a giant puffball mushroom in the wooded area behind his new house, and how it was a short walk through from the library.

I remember listening to pop music on the radio as he slept and him waking up to say he liked the song.

I remember when he had his heart broken from a childish school dance and how the girl was allergic to strawberries. I remember a lot of talks and jokes and growth.

I also remember the end or the beginning of it. I remember how my personality and interests split from his. How it became an uphill battle to connect. I played music but he wanted his own distractions and connected with my brother more.

I remember a hot summer when my cousin, brother and us all went to a muddy river bank to cool off and swim. My cousin taking a long, bumpy path down a corn field, and the water being dark and cool. The mud making you sink in it. I remember my cousin cooking a clam on a makeshift fire and choking it down. I remember my best friend drinking a beer and ignoring me. I remember swimming being a distraction.

That’s when I realized someone I had known and trusted didn’t want my company for me, but merely because it allowed him access to his own distractions. I don’t remember the final phone calls or sleepovers. The joy had been sucked out of it because I knew that fire had smoldered.

I am stronger having seen these things but there is a beauty in understanding transience.