My Best Friend

My best friend is Conner Clemens. I haven't spoken to him in several years, and that was but a brief and awkward moment. It was years before that, and years before that. I would say in the last 15 years I've spoken with him three times. Maybe. All of them brief.

I moved to Oregon in August, a few months before I turned 7, and one month before school started. I just moved here, not even settled down, and then I had to take another leap into the wide world of Public School. First Grade. Mrs. Hubadavacheck. Yep, that's a real name and a real person. I remember being scared to death, and wondering how I was going to make it without my mom being there. But I did somehow, and out of it I met my best friend. We had a fantastic Elementary School boyhood. He had a "field" for a back yard (it was just a big yard, not at all a field. It's sad how things get smaller the older you get) and we liked to play war, football, knights, whatever back there. We would stay up late at his house playing his Sega and watching TV. The house he lived in had four bedrooms, and two living rooms, so his sister, mom, and himself would move around from room to room. It seemed like it was always a different room each time I stayed the night. Sometimes his mom would take us into town, and we would play with all the toys in the store. Every year we went to the fair on bracelet day. The only word to describe those days is scrumtrulescent.