Something 'Bout Love

"Today's been strange," I wrote in my journal just barely, "but it felt sort of like home."

On the bus ride home, I looked forward to talking with Fortune, Kahler, and Liberty, but instead I sat next to Souri. She's not my ideal person to sit next to. She's so nice and sweet and she's always smiling no matter what, but she isn't one of my really good friends, and it's a little strange talking to her because I feel so not Souri ... you know?

But I had a good time. We talked about babysitting and for once I had a lot to say {okay, not for once, but you know what I mean}. So the time went by fast while I talked with Souri. And that felt nice.

Then on the way to this recognition ceremony for the AMC8 tonight, my mom and I talked about which school I was going to, which is undecided. I ended up in tears like every other time I talk or think about things I'm super passionate about, and I was frustrated. But when I walked into the room for the recognition assembly, Vanessa saw me and ran down the hallway and her in her bright green jeans was good enough for me and I didn't even stumble when we crashed in a hug.

So I sat next to Vanessa. Lately she hasn't been my favorite person. Especially because the only class I have with her is PE, so I get to see her be good at everything and make it look easy. But also because she sits next to me during assemblies and starts scrutinizing the cheerleaders {she's so one of them} like "Oh, their round-off back handsprings {insert some crazy cheerleader term} are looking okay. I can do that better than they can though!"

But I understand her, more than I understand many people. She and I are so alike, so it's hard to hate her. And especially because I realize how much past we have together, and how much I really do love that little girl who brings brightness to my life. {Like her name.}

Especially when we found somebody in the crowd who I sort of knew. He is annoying, I know him sorta personally, and I said he reminded me of this one friend we had last year who moved.

"Funny," she said. "I don't remember him much at all. I think that should be wrong."

"It's funny to think how much you won't miss us next year," I said, still not sure of what school I was going to.

I'm still not sure. But it didn't matter, because Vanessa looked at me and said she cried when she thought about it too hard. She prayed for me and the rest of our friends who would be leaving. And no matter if those had been lies, because they felt real, and she grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

I squeezed back, and for the remaining half hour or more of the presentations, we were like that. We said nothing about it. We whispered and talked and laughed but our hands were together squeezing.

I told my mom how it was hard to decide schools because of my friends. She wondered how friends mattered so much to me. "They're not your lovers, or your husband," she said. Quote exactly. That's my mom for ya.

I didn't say anything, because my mom isn't me. I have parts of her, but I have parts of me too.

I have my eyes, which looked at Vanessa's hand and mine, squeezing so hard they were both red.

I have my heart, which was warm from the kind ones nearby.

And I have my mind, which knew enough about the power of friendship and the David Archlueta song to ... well, to look down at those two hands holding on through forever. I felt as strong as the mountains I grew on, as deep as the roots of the tree that is me ... and for a moment there I swear, I couldn't tell
whose
hands
were
whose.