A ‘Best Friend’

We had been together our entire lives. From the day Joseph was brought home from the hospital we were inseparable; it was always just me and him. He would cry if I wasn’t near and, in the night, we would sleep side by side in his wooden basinet his hand clutching mine. Together we would lay in the night the incessant snores of his parents and the quiet ticking of the clock being the only sound we would hear till the birds began to sing in the morning light. It was a simple time.
When we were five, Joseph would babble constantly. A begging plea to allow us to go to the park. Together, we would play for hours. The wonders of child-like imagination would set us alight letting us play well into the hours of the afternoon. minds never questioning if we would ever run out of things to play. These times were my favorite.
When we were nine, Joseph began to drift. I wouldn’t see him as often. Our child-like adventures felt like a distant memory. When I did see him, he was often in tears – children were cruel. I wished there was more I could do, other than letting him hold me close and bawl. His tears stabbed me, each droplet hitting harder. There was nothing I could do. It wasn’t like I could go to school with him, that would make the incessant teasing worse. I hated how others hurt him.
At age fourteen, the gap between us had only widened. Joseph seemed to be getting happier. I was happy for him, he had new friends now! Sometimes they would come over for the weekend or after school. When that happened, I was always pushed away hidden out of view. I sometimes prayed that I would be included in the sleep overs but that hope never came to fruition. On the nights we were alone he would hold me the same way he did when we were small. He was still my best friend.
Nineteen. Nineteen was the age my world fell apart. The week had been bustling and boxes had been packed throughout Joseph’s room. What was happening? Why was everything being packed away? Besides some boxes it was just me. It was then he came into the room scanning checking to make sure nothing was left behind. He saw me, and he took a few meaningful strides gently picking me up off the bed.
“Hey Ted” he said softly holding my plush body in his hands. “Look after my room while I’m gone will ya?” he spoke.
This was when my world shattered. My body was carefully being placed back onto our childhood bed. He looked at me almost sadly and walked out. In the end he had grown up. No longer the small boy who would hold me well into the night. This hurt, yet I knew deep down he was still my best friend. Maybe one day he’ll come back.

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