Let me set the stage: on a Monday at 7:20 a.m., I am pulling into your driveway. You walk to my car, and we both trade comments on the horrible weather and how tired we are. 

I still remember when I first met you: I was going into first grade, new to the neighborhood, and only had my sister to play with. You and another girl walked up to me and asked me to hang out with you guys. For the first two years of us knowing each other, our friendship was very much one-sided; now, we are inseparable. 

We spent much of our time in eighth grade and our first two years of high school wishing for our driver’s licenses. We constantly imagined the adventures that we would have the freedom to embark on. We did not picture me pulling up to your house every morning before school. 

It’s crazy that I have only been driving for less than a year and you for a few weeks. It feels as though I have been driving us around for a lifetime, but it was only last year when we were screaming at the tops of our lungs as we walked down the all-too-familiar path to our neighboring houses. 

Honestly, you are the reason I did not sleep through first hour for all of last semester and much of this one. I knew I had to get up so you were not without a ride, but now I just have to tell myself that I cannot miss math. 

My car is empty without you in my passenger seat, and even though I am blasting country music, my car still seems quiet. Obviously, I am so happy for you, but I miss driving you everywhere. Not that we don’t still carpool, but it’s different. 

Our friendship has faced a lot of changes; we have gone through different friend groups, phases, obsessions, and fights. Then we faced a big change: I could drive—we had half of our freedom. Now another change: we both can drive—we have our full freedom.  This is a development that back when we were walking home from school and wishing we could drive I did not picture having a sad tinge to the edges. 

But, on the bright side, we can both drive; we can split the amount of gas used, we can meet places, and we can both embark on solo adventures. I am not upset you can drive because we still walk into school together, we still carpool, and we still spend almost all of our time together. This is just another change we have conquered. 

I do love searching for your iconic van when pulling into the parking lot. I also love coming up to your passenger door and impatiently pulling on the handle. My morning routine may have changed, but it still involves you, so I can accept that.

Let me set the new stage: I am pulling out of the neighborhood, I park next to Big Blue, and I go sit in her car before we head into school together.