It was my fifth spring and the gardens had just started blooming again. The parks were swarming with families of all shapes and sizes brimming with joy at the recognition of an old season melting into a new one.
The trees danced in the gentle warm breeze and birds sung while clinging to their branches. I swayed with the winds, allowing myself a moment to just be, feeling the sun comfortable and mellow against my skin. My mother and father were far away, out of sight, leaving me to my own volition. I curled myself into the curved base of a large tree and allowed my mind to wander as my eyes strayed to the equipment being occupied by a lively bunch of children my age. I locked eyes with him then and he grinned, my first friend. He dashed over, kicking up wood chips and grass blades, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. He handed me a small wooden aeroplane that day, one that I never remembered to return, but from that small act of kindness bloomed a beautiful bond that would see me through for many years to come.
Not long after my sixth spring had come to pass I was starting school, and I was terrified. The gigantic iron gates loomed ominously as we entered the school, it was as if they were jaws trying to swallow me whole. I clung to my mother and begged her not to make me go. I cried and cried until I noticed someone staring at me, a small girl who appeared to be my age with two massive bows adorning her golden spirally pigtails. On catching my eye she smiled at me and waved me over, and after a few uncertain glances in my mother’s direction, I complied. She was my second friend, and probably one of my favourites. For a time we were inseparable, playing together, eating together, hosting sleepovers every other weekend. Eventually we were joined by others, my third, fourth and fifth friends, and how joyous it was. By the time my seventh spring had rolled around I had become an honorary member of my own friend group and my parents were so proud. Then one day my second friend had to move away, we couldn’t play, eat or sleep over together anymore. My third, fourth and fifth friends told me to cheer up as we still had each other, but the days that went by without her just weren’t the same.
As I entered high school, a short time after my 13th spring, I noticed the shift in those I called friends once again. Every day was a competition, people talked, people bickered. People laughed, people fought, but most notably of all people formed clans. It was as if your friends became allies and the lunchroom a war zone. Yet, in war I found beauty in the form of my sixth and seventh friends. Said friends helped navigating life as a teenager, making it bearable and enjoyable. It was at this stage that I had decided I prefer my own company to that of other people, but they were the exception. During my 14th spring I was gifted my first mobile phone, providing me a wonderful new way of communicating with my first friend, rekindling and reinforcing our fellowship. As things changed and people grew friends quickly morphed into family, a home away from home. They became a shoulder to cry on when I learned to feel sorrow and arms to fall into in celebration of first achievements. Most importantly, they redefined the meaning of friendship.
Now, amid my 18th spring, I take my seat in a great hall filled with bustling bodies jittering from both nerves and excitement. The speakers jolt to life to inform the crowd that the graduation ceremony will begin soon and the brief silence that hangs in the air afterwards allows my mind to slip away again, pondering the years gone by and the people who have been such an important part of my journey. My thoughts stray to my second friend who I lost touch with so long ago. Where is she now? Is she happy? Has she managed to surround herself with new and wonderful people as I have? The prospect of new beginnings following this graduation has filled me with even more gratitude for the experiences that have brought me to this point. I realise now that it’s impossible to hold onto every dear friend you make, and that the action of making friends itself is not easy. Each friendship is a journey into a new country that should be valued for its beauty and uniqueness.