I am a huge fan of the Dallas Cowboys. My best friend is a die- hard fan of our hated rival New York Giants. Recently, the Cowboys suffered a heart breaking loss to end their season. As I lay, sprawled across the couch on the verge of tears, my phone rang. I picked up and, across 2352 miles of telephone line, I heard, “Hey buddy, don’t worry…the Giants are still in it.”
I believe that a true friendship never ends. When I was 14 years old, my best friend Jay moved across the country from Rochester, New York to Phoenix, Arizona. Today, three and a half years after he moved, our friendship is as strong as ever.
Since he left, we’ve only seen each other once. Our friendship survives through the memories we created together. Whenever we talk, old memories constantly pop up. His bedroom window is a favorite topic of ours. We had been playing catch after school one day. Our throws were MVP worthy all afternoon, right up until the toss that ended up in his bedroom, crashing through the window. It could have been I who had thrown the ball. It could have been him. It’s not important. What is important is how his parents refused to pay for that window. They tried to take this opportunity as a way to teach young Jay a valuable lesson of fixing one’s mistakes. What they got was an extensive heating bill. A month had gone by and the window was still broken. A year-still broken. Two years- still broken. After three years of holding fast to their prior belief, Jay’s parents paid for the window due to the fact that potential buyers were checking out his house. We have laughed about that same story a million times, and probably will laugh at it a million more.
Like most eleven year old boys, our favorite thing to do was fight. Our epic battles would go down on his trampoline in the backyard. In one corner you had Superman (me). My flying attack, in which I’d jump into the air and belly flop on the opponent, was a ferocious attack. In the other corner, it was Jay 2 Cool, otherwise known as J2C. The quick and fierce J2C was always a tough adversary and utilized the feared German Suplex whenever he could.. We would fight for hours out there, right up until his parents got home and stopped us. Occasionally they were too late. Countless pairs of glasses, socks, and pants were ruined in combat. May they rest in peace.
So, do I miss my friend? Yes. Do I wish that he had never moved? Obviously. But the distance has in some ways made us closer. We tell each other everything and are always making plans for me to fly out to visit him in Arizona. Whenever I am daydreaming in the middle of my English class, I always envision how amazing it would be to actually partake in this trip. We wouldn’t have that awkward meeting period that always happens after you don’t see someone for a long time. We wouldn’t sit there and not know what to say to one another. I’m positive that we wouldn’t. That’s because I believe our friendship has never ended. We remember the memories we have made, and count down the days until I hop on the plane, go to his house, and tell him “Hey, I know the Giants didn’t win… but not all is lost…the Cowboys are still in it!”
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