We sat in her kitchen playing a game.
It ended and she exchanged a grave look with her mother,
then with me.
Her mother embraced us and walked away.

She peered at me as if with something big on her mind:
she needed to talk to me,
and I wasn’t going to like
what she had to say.

We snatched her mom’s home-made banana bread
and a glass of milk
and headed upstairs.

We sat down on the floor
just talking.
The conversation was awkward;
it didn’t flow.
I felt tension and confusion in the air,
and she did too.

She sat her plate down and took mine.
Then, she grabbed a box of Kleen-ex and settled down in front of me.
She handed me the box,
“Take one, you’ll need it.”

She held my hands and began explaining
She told me that her father had gotten a new job.
She paused, waiting for my reaction,
but I didn’t understand what she was trying to relay to me.

Then, seeing the daze on my face,
she hugged me and solemnly confessed-
“I’m moving.”

We cried,
We sobbed,
We sat in silence, then cried more.
We joked around, in hopes of becoming happy again.
In that moment, we just wanted to have fun together
and not mourn over the distance
that was going to be forced between us.

Hundreds of miles,
Hundreds of days we wouldn’t see each other.
Hundreds of memories flew through our minds
the good times
the bad times
the dramatic times.

There was nothing that could be done
or changed to make her stay.
She had to go.
Her family had to go.
I had to accept it.

Now, I sit in my kitchen,
and she sits in hers.
Through a screen and lens
we are able to see each other.
We do homework together,
we study together,
we watch movies together,
and we talk to each other.

Closer than ever,
hundreds of miles apart,
she is my best friend,
and I am hers.