I met her on the sidewalk when I offered to share my chalk with her. We became friends as we drew beneath the old oak tree in the cool summer evening. Riley Marder: the childhood best friend who I bonded with over Barbie dolls, long days spent outside, and our over-creative imaginations.
The friendship I had with Riley was far from your ordinary neighborhood friendship. She lived in Florida, but during the summer and holidays, she would come live in Pennsylvania, around the corner from my house. I met her and we were instantly best friends bound for adventure.
Our days that first summer were spent playing from dawn to dusk at each other’s houses or the local park. We would run and skip through the neighborhood, creating new games to play in the summer heat and forging a bond that seemed nearly unbreakable. Whenever it came time for Riley to leave, I would say goodbye with a heavy heart and count down the days for the next break. I never actually knew when she would show up. These were the days before kids had cell phones and social media allowing them to talk even though they were miles and miles apart. It was a thrill: I never knew when she would show up, and when she did I was beyond excited. I would see the car in her driveway and sprint down the street, excited for the new adventure that awaited around the corner.
Whether it was sledding in the winter or hiding Easter eggs in the spring, we found something to keep us busy. Riley and I were inseparable. At Christmas, I received a gift in the mail: a coconut from Florida which she had painted. I still have it – it’s by far one of the most unique gifts I have received. I always thought these unexpected visits would continue – and for a while, they did. But then… Riley didn’t come back.
At first, I missed her beyond measure. Each holiday break would come and go without any car parked in her drive way. Months passed, seasons changed, and soon it had been years since I had seen Riley. I grew up. I no longer colored the sidewalk beneath the old oak tree, which has been chopped down. I stopped going to the park to play. I didn't have a neighborhood friend to imagine anything with anymore.
Suddenly, it was my senior year of high school and I was grown up. I no longer had the time to be a child – I was expected to make decisions about my future and seemingly forget about the ease of my past ways. Riley was a memory, faded and stored away in a box labeled ‘CHILDHOOD’.
Last autumn, there was a car in Riley’s drive way.
My heart leaped to my throat. I walked to the house, timid, unsure of what to find. I didn’t find Riley. I found the new owners of the home – Riley’s father had passed away and the house had to be sold. It was as I walked through the house that I realized my childhood was over. It may be melodramatic to pinpoint it to that moment, but I felt it in my bones that I was older, nearly an adult. I walked through Riley’s house one more time. I remembered all the times I’d spent there – so much happiness had come from that place. As I approached Riley’s bedroom I felt a weight press down on me – how had we lost connection? We were meant to be best friends forever. I continued to the attic where we had used our imagination countless times for adventures. There, on the shelf was a picture. I looked at it, seeing me and my best friend and our siblings smiling back at us. I broke down, my tears no longer capable of being held back.
The new owners of the home allowed me to pack up some of Riley’s belongings to send to her. With them I wrote a letter, expressing to Riley how much I missed our friendship. We reconnected on social media, but not much else changed. We were still miles away and it seemed our friendship would only be a thing of the past.
Winter came and with it, a message from Riley. Before I knew it, we were messaging and then we were texting. Now, a week doesn’t pass without me contacting Riley. Our friendship is back. Through all of it, I have realized that some things can last through anything: time, distance, disconnection. The things that make it through those are the best things we have in this world.
Riley Marder continues to be one of my dearest friends. Although I haven’t seen her since her last visit, all those years ago, I still wait for the day when I can sprint towards her and continue imagining all that could be with her by my side.
