I had actually never thought about where she lived. For me, she lived in the gym, like most of my friends. Playing one sport or another. But while we all worried about things, like living in a trailer, or parents splitting up, what kind of cars we rode in, (would eventually drive), if we had the right jeans, the right tennis shoes… while all these worries were going on in our own heads, hearts, most of us were really thinking, that’s my friend from band, from choir, the one I sit behind in social studies, the girl I trust to know my secret crush, my period schedule, my first choice to sit with on long bus rides —- because this is where people live, where your real friends live, right beside you — it’s never about the trailer. 

I suppose everything takes a long time to learn. And I’m still learning. And sometimes learning means forgetting. Forgetting about all the trivial things. I don’t care what cars my friends drive. The only reason I know one, is because I had to follow her to another friend’s house. A house that was beautiful, surely because of its view of Lake Latoka, but more so because it gathered us in. Gathered us in beyond all loft and luxury, and lifted us with laughter — a laughter that is still bouncing my feet, springing my step, joying my heart. This is the real measure of friendship. And lives beside me. Within me. Us. Forever.