I keep the memories of countless sleepless nights, horseback riding lessons, and vacations in my head. Nevertheless, these snapshots of our friendship’s many stories collide with each other. I can’t seem to remember them exactly the way they were—all of the flashbacks are a blur. 

I, a seven-year-old moving into a sizable neighborhood nothing like the last, was lonely and desperate to find friends. I instantaneously met the girl who lived next door to me, and she escorted me to your house. I saw you and another neighbor girl standing at the top of your hilltop driveway, mainly used for RipStiking down and back up again. As I walked towards you both to introduce myself, the other girl stopped me. I remember exactly what she said to me because of a current running joke that you and I have about it now.  She said, “Masyn, you are M-E-A-N.” I was confused because we had only just met. Walking home together, you interrupted my sobbing. I don’t remember the exact words you said to me, but I do know that it was what started our friendship. 

At the beginning of becoming close, horseback riding was a skill we both happened to share. Our Thursday lessons were what bonded us together as we shared our riding journey. Every Thursday night, we got our horses out and talked as we got them tacked up. Cassidy, our trainer, would even have to remind us to focus and be quiet as we got ready to ride, but we all know there was never a time where we listened and stopped our constant chatter. 

Living next door to the barn was the best part of our friendship, as it was our central hangout spot during the summertime. We would walk over, help out, ride our horses, and even cause a little bit of trouble, but that never stopped us from coming back.  

Furthermore, sleepovers filled other parts of our summers as well. On our shared vacations were and still are full of you and I parading over to one another’s houses and spending the night. My house is your house, and your house is mine. There are no limits between us. Nights full of sneaking snacks into my room—essentially unhealthy ones—is another part of our sleepover journeys. Our nights are also filled with singing and dancing to our favorite songs. I can only imagine what we look like when we are dancing and singing all of the words to “Dr. Jean’s Banana Dance” and “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” 

Besides all of the craziness, talking to you is my favorite part of our whole friendship. I feel that I can speak to you about anything. I always complain to you about drama and relationships between friends and boys, and you seem to listen well even though you know I’ll be talking for hours. I love coming to you with my problems because you always bring me back to laughter in the end. 

Whether it’s Mexico or Traverse City, you’re always there with me on our shared vacations. I remember we went snorkeling in Mexico, and you panicked because of the giant stingray at Xel-Ha. Another memory that always comes to mind is when we fell off of the jet ski in Traverse City while doing a short fishtail in the water. I can’t help but laugh, mainly because it happened so quickly, and the next second we were somehow floating in the water while the jet ski was slowly moving away from us. I also reflect on the time my Nana made us try lemons to see our reaction; let me just say, we got a very entertaining video out of that. 

With all of these memories that we share and numberless amounts of others, I hope to make more as we grow older. More vacations, more sleepovers, and more relaxing and just sitting down to talk about our lives—even if it’s the long Snapchat videos we send back and forth. 

Thank you for being my best friend for life, Chloe.