Comma of a friendship
Jessica Moskowitz ‘ 18
Mia had been the type of friend I would confuse as my sister . Our friendship extended past the reach of my memory , past potty training , the alphabet and my first cat . Mia was the age of my actual sister , and both of us loved her as we loved each other .
My sister and I followed a simple routine every Friday , catching the bus at the corner of 35th Ave and NE 94th Street we would watch the window for the coffee shop marking the corner of Mia ’ s street , My sister held tight to my hand until we stood safely in the driveway of our destination . Letting ourselves in the back door , we ’ d great Mia ’ s moms and scamper up the stairs to convince our friend it was time to go exploring .
We ’ d go on walks with our set of broken walkie-talkies and keep watching for each other while we stole plums from the neighbor ’ s trees . Usually , when our legs were tired from walking and our stomachs full of plums we ’ d crawl under the back porch to lay in the dirt and talk , the cold of the hard ground seeping into our backs , the underside of the porch was the edge of our world . At night we would pile onto the scratchy futon in the basement burrow ourselves in a cocoon of blankets and watch America ’ s Next Top Model until we fell asleep . Pure is the word I ’ d use to define our friendship with Mia . Then we moved .
Our parents had found jobs in Boston their carers tore us away from our home and spat us out in a New- England suburb . We learned a new Friday tradition of skyping and holding our cats up in front of the camera for her to see . And she visited every summer for weeks at a time , until those weeks dwindled to a few days and until those few days became one day . And then it was two summers ago , and she was in Boston for just one day on her way back from her grandparents ’ house . And we didn ’ t sleep because we had too much to talk about , we spent every second of that day and night together and then we were driving to the airport and hugging in a parking lot and talking about everything we would do next time and then she was gone . And with her went the strongest bond I have ever had to person , a water thick enough to be mistaken as blood . I think about the last time I saw her ; the air had been humid and heavy as if holding back tears , I didn ’ t know that morning came with the punctuation of friendship .
Mia taught me how to trust , how to love others more than myself and how to be loyal . In the time since Mia , I ’ ve grown up a lot , friendships have grown up with me , and I ’ ve found myself time and time again chewing , swallowing and re-digesting what that word means .