What's stuck in my brain is...

Eating frosted animal cookies with sprinkles within the freshly painted walls of our kindergarten classroom. Fresh faces, young voices, little feet pittering across the butterfly rug. Alphabet on the walls and innocence in the air.

Joyfully pretending to be the blonde Barbies in our little seven year old hands. Picking and choosing who will be who, as every other child argued, we just laughed endlessly as our imaginative play pretend story unfolded.

Her three word attempt to dry my tears caused by the wretched, old lunchlady in second grade. The principal told me to get napkins from the small separate table which was usually off limits to students, but forgot to inform the senseless, power-tripped woman with a nasty mole the size of Africa. The words were all I needed to hear to cheer up and smile. "Mo-leh, mo-leh, mo-leh..."

The anxious first day of fourth grade and locking eyes with a familiar face. "Hey, I know you.." we exchanged simultaneously as the rest of the children settled along, sharing stories of their summer vacations. I knew on this day that I had found my best friend, and we just clicked.

Our first sleepover, or as I like to call it, the day of unrelenting laughter. Laughter for hours upon hours. Laughter at me. Laughter at her. Laughter at her brothers' unexpected eruption into her room to tell us unkind words I mustn't repeat, which made us laugh even harder.

The blindfold over her green eyes and freckled face as she "perfected" the blindfolded makeover on my chubby, rosy-cheeked face. I soon appeared to myself the worst and best I had ever looked. Worst for my terrible makeup job, but best for the glowing smile on my face and exploding laughter from each of our mouths. My turn...

Running freely through the freezing cold field of sprinklers and freshly cut grass. Faces beaming, hearts alive, skin as cold as snow. Her cousin was just like us, but was leaving soon for California. We chuckled our hearts out on that field as the other children watched, making fun of us. Not a care in the world, we walked up the stairs and into our cars, soaking wet with excitement and exhaustion.

Flying through the air for a mere thirty seconds, only about 1000 times. From the twenty-foot height of the neighbor's broken down treehouse we glided again and again to the dirty, old mattress below; the only zip line we had ever experienced.

Her embrace on the night of Halloween. My mother had fallen and been taken by the ambulance to the ER. As I sat on her soft bed, warm tears rolling off my cheeks, she wrapped me into her glittered arms and soothed my worry, our uncomfortable fairy attires scratching and stretching to come off.

The days we spent playing mariokart for hours. Racing, screaming, crashing, laughing, and winning. I thought her flat television screen would explode; it would've if it could've been as enthusiastic as we were. We screeched in horror at our losses, and rejoiced loudly at our victories. The neighbors would sometimes reply back with a "whoo-hoo!" or "shut the...". We couldn't contain our raging childhood adrenaline, not for a moment.

Sneaking out of my house. Creek, creek, creek- the window couldn't be quiet like us. Stealth bombers, we'd say. Jump. Up the dark, deserted street we ran into the night, senselessly laughing once we were far enough from my sleeping house. Uncharted fun, hearts beating hard. Hurrying back to my house by dawn, we laughed and laughed and laughed until we almost wet ourselves. Back up my stairs we went. I will never forget the moment I looked back at her. She was laughing so hard, with all her might trying to contain herself. She thought I was mad at her for a moment, telling her to be quiet, but much to her surprise, she looked up and saw me laughing harder than she was. We erupted, laughing harder than we've ever laughed before. How did we get into my house that night??

The night I called. We hadn't had a sleepover in months, if not a year. I missed her. She missed me. I ran up my street and called her. She knew of my problems at home, but I never said too much over the years. As they picked me up on that wretched night, I knew I was loved. I got into her room and saw her face. I broke. She held me, this strong, amazing, friend of mine.

The day she told me she was moving. As she had gotten older, her relatives slowly disappeared to the mainland or to heaven above. It was time for her family to move. It wasn't going to be for a while, so I didn't fret. Time and time passed, and we just enjoyed it as it went.

It broke my heart she was leaving, and slowly ate me more and more as time closed in. She had been my best friend, and pretty much my only friend for most of my life. Through good and bad times, we stuck together and grew into the people we are today. Though at some times we drifted, we always came back to each other, and things were always the same.

The last day I walked into her house. Things were packed. The white walls were empty. The clean floor was habited by boxes, soon to be gone. The large house was spotless and almost barren. We joked like normal, but the tone of the room was like pressure 4000 ft. under the sea, urging to compound in. It had not hit me until that moment that she would be thousands of miles away and so out of reach. Humbled by the sight, I thanked the God I once knew for the times we had. The memories we shared. The love we had found and the friendship we raised. I loved her more than anything. As I said my final goodbyes, I stared into that green-eyed freckled face, and felt as if the pressure of the room finally gave, and my heart had collapsed in with it. I realized as we stood there, in each others tight embrace, that this would not be the last time I saw my best friend. I knew this because friendships like ours are 1 in infinity, and we could never permanently separate, because we will always be in each others' hearts.