Snapshots

by Selina Sun

Up until second grade, the land opposite my neighborhood was a large barren hill. Towards the end of second grade, a building company bought that hill, and the construction of ten middle-class suburban houses began. I was afraid of the permanent changes that were happening right in front of me; however, the construction of that new neighborhood brought my best friend in third grade, and that eclipsed my longing for the past. 

I still remember the first time we met. I was accompanying my mom on a walk around the neighborhood, her regular post-dinner activity, when we ran into Irene’s large, very athletic family for the first time. Her outgoing parents introduced themselves first, her older sister watching from ten meters away, impatiently eager to keep exercising, and her younger sister staring up at my mom. Irene and I mirrored each other, standing awkwardly next to our respective parents and turning away from the conversation. We seemed so similar, both Asian girls, same height, same build, similar age. But when our parents discovered we would be in the same school in the same grade level, I felt a sense of dread. I knew my parents would make me introduce my shy self to Irene. But Irene’s parents got to it first, and when Irene turned towards me almost nonchalantly and simply waved, I saw her phantom apprehension transform into casual confidence. This act I always dreaded was nothing to her. She will not have remembered the significance of her greeting, but I recognized something. I responded in a much more cautious manner, not at all with the confidence she had begun to exude. Even though the state of our introductions were so different, I saw someone similar to me and someone I wanted to be. It was then when I knew we had the potential to be very good friends.

Back when I started first grade, I was afraid of riding a school bus for the first time. I didn’t want to be away from my parents and I was afraid of sitting alone or not being able to find a seat. My dad knew how terrified I was and tried his best to accommodate me without succumbing to my wish of being driven to school. That first day, he drove me to the bus stop, even though it was right in front of our house, 15 minutes early. When the bus finally arrived, sealing away my hopes of being driven to school, I resigned myself to my fate. The last request my dad made of me was to sit in the front of the bus, so that when it backed up in the intersection he could check and make sure I was safely aboard the bus. 

Sitting in the front of the bus became my preference. It was safe, convenient for boarding and exiting, and I had no competition for seats because the back was more popular. However, the summer before third grade, Irene moved in next door and we became best friends. 

Irene was adventurous. She wanted to branch out and make more friends. The best place to quickly make friends was the back of the bus, because of its highly concentrated population. When Irene chose to sit at the back of the bus, I followed. I would never have had the experience if Irene hadn’t wanted to sit in the back of the bus. When I took that opportunity and interacted with the popular girls from my class, I discovered that they were very sweet and kind. We had many enjoyable times together, gossiping about crushes and FLE lessons. 

It had been incredibly difficult to give up my old routine, to enact change in my lifestyle, but I had been willing to because I found spending time with Irene to be worthwhile. During our friendship, Irene and I made many plans to spend time together. Us being next-door neighbors opened up many opportunities to us, and that was most clearly demonstrated through The Bridge. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Irene, her older sister, and I would carpool to our shared swim team. On Mondays, we played online games together. We made a pact that every Friday after school, we would finish our homework and then find a time to meet at the intersection between our homes. Irene would bring her two sisters, and I would bring my treasured wooden stick. Then, we would jog down the hill to the neighborhood community park. That park was home to a creek, and that creek was home to a small sand island. Our activity was to construct a bridge of pebbles connecting the dirt banks to the sandy island. 

The Bridge was originally Irene’s. I tagged along later, and it became ours. That backstory lends itself to showing how adventurous Irene was. Backed by a passion for the outdoors I had never had, Irene, who had moved into the neighborhood for less than six months, discovered the community park behind our homes before I, who lived in the neighborhood for a decade, did. I wanted to be close to her, to spend time with my closest friend, and it made me spend more time outdoors, touching dirt and rocks and wood. It made me want to find time to be outside regardless of my allergies, just to be with her. Being around Irene influenced me to become more adventurous. 

However, our plans did not always work out. I would often discover myself lagging behind. Sometimes, I would receive messages from Irene showing that she had finished the homework in 15 minutes, the same homework that would go on to take me two hours to complete. And so, my focus on academics was also influenced by being friends with Irene. 

I had always taken school very seriously. I did all my homework on time and spoke during class and studied hard for tests. I tended to do well enough, but not as well as my closest friend, Irene. She even joined third grade already knowing cursive and multiplication. Seeing other students look to Irene for help with math made me feel insecure. It made me think for the first time that I wasn’t working hard enough. So, third grade was when the course of my academic career began to shift. I wanted to cross the line and improve into a better version of myself. 

Irene was my role model and being friends with her changed my life for the better. She inspired me to improve in many aspects of my life. Still, when her family moved away in fourth grade, our friendship faded away and I was devastated. My only option was to move on. Irene had been my first number one, someone who I valued above all other friends. So, in being best friends with her, I had pushed away some of my other best friends. Fourth grade was when I reconnected with old friends and made new friends. However, I will never forget her. Not only because of her impact on my life, but also for all the little quirks that made us different and still equal, for all the qualities that made her special, and all the experiences we had together when I didn’t bother to worry about my insecurities. I will always cherish my memories of having fun being with my best friend, and I will always wonder what we could have been if we had never lost touch. 

The Bridge she left behind, The Bridge I am left to care for. In the past, we used to rebuild The Bridge every time it rained and the stones washed away. When I visited The Bridge years later, I could almost see the remnants of our weekly presence. The least I could have done was fill in the rest of it, just as I rebuilt my friendships after Irene left. Even though I had been devastated to hear she was leaving, it didn’t mean I was left as an empty husk. Our friendship changed me and left memories that I will always come back to, but when the waters get rough, the least I can do is rebuild. Over and over.