Friendships are forever, one way or another

This first account is not my own.

Rhi tells me she was my first best friend. We met in kindergarten, but Rhi didn’t share her memory of our friendship with me until our senior year of high school.

Apparently, after I became buddies with Stuart who I allied with to terrorize the other girls in the class, I told Rhi I didn’t want to be friends with her anymore. And I forgot all about our friendship. Literally.

In first grade, Stu and I had different teachers and soon forgot about each other. As most elementary school children do so well, I made a new best friend. Lauren and I promptly became inseparable.

Until of course, second grade. Then it was Amanda.

In third grade I met Marcy.

In fourth, more or less, it was Marcy.

In fifth and sixth, just Marcy.

And in junior high, you guessed it, Marcy.

Our friendship continued into high school, and we were the only two graduates from our class to come to Ohio University. We hadn’t planned on going to college together. In fact, we probably needed a break from each other. But fate had decided that we were going to take one more step in our lives together.

But Marcy is transferring schools this fall. It finally hit me this week. Fate has changed its mind.

I never thought I would be so bothered by her leaving. I’ve never had to imagine my life without her, and I’m realizing how I’ve taken her for granted.

Our friendship isn’t perfect and never has been. I get on her nerves, and she drives me insane. I whine about her to my other friends, and she whines about me to her fiancée. Sometimes I don’t understand how she can be such a spoiled brat and so sweet at the same time, and she wonders how, in her words, I’m the dumbest smart person she knows.

But as with any best friend, I know she’ll be there no matter what. It’s Marcy who understands who I am and how and why I’ve come to be that way. We’ve shared so much laughter and so many tears.

We’ve learned so much together — how to handle disappointment and triumph, how to overcome adversity and to latch onto moments of hope, how boyfriends and even other friends come and go, and how they always will come and go. We’ve learned the value of love and how life isn’t anything without it. The love of a friendship is not the same as that of an intimate partner, but it can be just as strong. Marcy and I, we’re not just friends. We’re like sisters, you see.

I don’t really remember my life without Marcy. We’ve played over 500 basketball and volleyball games together, and I can’t even begin to fathom how many practices we’ve had and how many miles we’ve run since junior high. We’ve watched so many movies and had so many sleepovers. We worked together every day last summer, each others’ only female companions in a male-dominated job.

This summer will be our last together.

But I know that when she gets married, I’ll be there. When she has her first child, I hope she wants me to be there too. When she finds that perfect job, I hope I’m one of the first people she calls. And the bad things, I want to be there for those too.

We’ve learned another new thing this year — how to live together. We’ve known each other for 11 years, but it took us two quarters to make peace with our furniture arrangement, our opposite sleep schedules, our conflicting study habits and our unique friends. But we’ve made peace as we’ve always done with our differences.

I hope that when we’re old and ornery we’ll share even more laughter and tears. I hope strangers still mistake us for sisters, and our relatives and friends still mix up our names.

Marcy’s moving on this year, but our friendship won’t. We’ll still have our phone calls, our e-mails and IM’s. And our memories. We’ll always have our memories.

Friendships. Sometimes they’re painful, but mostly they’re unforgettably joyful. Here’s to one of my oldest and closest friends. Marcy, I love you, and I wish you only the best.