The Best Friend I Ever Had

Erin and I met on the first day of preschool.  We became best friends, and spent all of our time together.  When we were 5, Erin was diagnosed with leukemia.

I can't imagine how hard it was for her, but it was also rough for me.  I couldn't really understand everything that was going on.  Erin was in the hospital and there was nothing I could do but visit her.

When she came home, I went over to her house as often as I could.  She couldn't go anywhere because it could make her sick.  We played Barbies and American Girl.  She had a Nintendo with Zelda.  I was jealous that she had 9 stuffed golden retrievers, 2 of which were bigger than us.

Whenever I came over, the first thing I did was put on a mask and wash my hands.  We both knew I hated the mask.  It was stifling and made me feel like I couldn't breathe.  Every time Erin left the room, I ripped it off and gulped all the fresh, cool air I could before she came back.

Dress up may have been our favorite thing of all.  She had a huge bin of clothes, and I brought some of mine over too.  I always wore my mom's pastel green, floral bridesmaid dress.  Erin always dolled up in dresses, boas, and hats.  She always went to the bathroom to change.

One day, we wrestled in our dress up clothes.  We were laughing and squealing.  I tackled Erin and her hair fell off. Time stopped.  I was sure I made all her hair fall out.  She was embarassed.  We both cried.  That incident made our bond even stronger.

Erin relapsed.  We went to the hospital together.  I came with her to her doctor appointments and physical therapy when her legs atrophied and she could only walk on her toes.  We watched the Sound of Music while she got weighted casts on her legs (I can't watch this movie now because of all the memories it brings back).  We were together through every step of her illness.  Although she was the one physically experiencing it, I was affected too.

She came back to school when we were 9.  Everything changed.  We drifted apart.  She had other friends and I was no longer needed.  By high school, we spent no time together.  I haven't seen her in 10 years.

My memories of childhood are bittersweet.  I love how close we were, but I'm sorry it was because Erin was sick.  I'm sorry no one else wanted to hang out with the girl who had cancer.  We had so much fun together, but much of the time we were both uncomfortable.  She had to deal with chemo, and medicine, and countless other things.  And that mask still haunts me to this day.  I can't wear a scarf or a turtleneck because I get the same stifling feeling of the mask.

The experience made me a better person.  I learned the world was bigger than me, and that bad things happen to good people.   I had an amazing friend, and our bond was incredibly close.  I  learned compassion and empathy.  I learned that other kids can be selfish and mean because they don't understand something.  When we grew apart, I learned what it felt like to have my heart broken.  Not even my broken engagement 5 months before the wedding hurt as much as my lost friendship with Erin.  But if I could do the whole thing over again, I would.

My Best Friend-RemembeRED

I enter the house, excited.  My happiness dampens a little when I am handed the mask.  I put it on and am immediately stifled.  The air becomes hot and stale.  I feel like I'm suffocating.  I try to ignore the feeling.

Once I'm ready to play, she comes out of her room.  Erin is my best friend.  She has leukemia.  But today is a good day for her.

We run to the basement, giggling and squealing.  I want to play Nintendo-Erin has Zelda.  All I have at home is Duck Hunt and Mario Brothers.  Erin wants to play dress up.  We pull the bin of clothes and accessories from its storage spot.

I choose the green floral dress like I usually do.  It is pale and long and covered with flowers.  My mom once wore it as a bridesmaid.  Erin picks her clothes and goes to the bathroom like she always does to put them on. 

I rip off the mask and gulp as much sweet, fresh, cool air as I can.  I cannot even tell you how much I hate this mask, but I know I can make Erin sick if  I don't wear it, and she's sick enough already.

Erin comes back into the room in a dress, hat, and boa.  We giggle and play.  We end up rolling on the floor, wrestling.  I try to roll Erin off me, then it happens.

Oh my God, I panic.  I made her hair fall out.  Erin's hair lay on the floor.  I burst into tears.  I didn't know how I did it, but I knew I made her hair fall off her head.  I was terrified. Erin ran upstairs, distressed.  I thought her mom was going to yell at me.

After calming myself down a little, I slowly trudged up the stairs, still in tears.  Erin was at the kitchen table.  Her hair was back on her head.  I learned that day that your hair falls out when you get treated for cancer.  Once I was assured I did not make her hair off by wrestling with her, everything was back to normal.

We ran downstairs to play Barbies. 

This post was written in response to this week's Write on Edge RemembeRED prompt.
Your assignment for this week is to write about a memory of yourself WITH someone else.

Note: Erin meant lot to me, and I will be writing another post about her soon.  I wrote some of it for this, but there were too many memories and more than 600 words.