When I was younger, I was never really good at making friends. The kids at school were boring and unimaginative. Playing with Barbies consisted of “Ooh why I love your dress, let’s comb your hair.” Girls were mind numbingly dull. But at least the boys I knew enjoyed adventure.
My mom wasn’t one to to let me have friends over. That meant meeting and communicating with people she’d never met before. What I did have however, were two god-brothers. My parents and theirs had been friends for years. Chris was four years older and Mikey was only 2.
We played together since I was old enough to crawl. I played cops and robbers, masters of the universe, and in turn they would even play My Little Pony with me. Never combing of hair, more like search and rescue and daring adventure.
The boys would spend every summer with us. Sometimes it was just at home. Though often we would venture into the Blue Ridge Mountains with Old Red Socks. We trekked over Mount Mitchell and Pisgah and Craggy Gardens. Every weekend night we’d spend on Curtis Creek spearing crawfish, fishing, and generally getting dirty.
As time goes, families grow apart, children grow up, and people move on. But the memories you gain in between are enough to last a lifetime.
I still talk to Mikey from time to time. He is married with two beautiful children (including a son that looks EXACTLY like him).