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#Post#: 529--------------------------------------------------
memoir draft 1
By: Laisures Date: March 24, 2014, 8:10 am
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A True Friendship by Sara Laisure
What is a friendship to you? Most people think of a typical
sister like friendship, one where the two friends have known
each other for a long time. One where they are together every
waking moment. One where they never fight and everything is
always perfect. Well, I am here to tell you that that is not all
there is to a friendship. Specifically mine for example. I have
been friends with my BFF for nearly 20 years now (we both turn
twenty this April). We have grown up together, although, we have
not been together every waking moment, nor has everything been
perfect between us. One thing is for sure, we are friends today.
My best friends name is Erica. We were born 15 days apart and
lived two houses down from each other. Because we were so close
in age, our parents loved making us go on play dates
together…from the very beginning. You would think that since we
had been playing together since we were nearly a month old, that
we would get along and love each other. Ehhh, not so much. When
we were old enough to communicate with one another, we did not
get along. Erica did not want to be my friend…I don’t blame her
now that I look back. I was a mean little girl that always
thought I was better. Often for Christmas, our parents would get
us the exact same toys but in different colors. One year we both
received the new tumble baby. Mine was purple, hers was pink. I
immediately thought mine was better and made sure to let her
know. Who would want to be friends with someone like me? I truly
do not blame her. Although, even though I did not act like it, I
defiantly wanted to be her friend. I thought so was so amazing.
She always had the coolest things (even though they were often
the same) and whenever I went to her house, her mom gave me a
red popsicle…the good brand too! What could be better than that?
Although, even though I was rude to her, she was sure to dish
it back. By the time preschool came around, our parents were
still making us hang out. So they decided to send us to the same
preschool. It was the beginning of the school year. Our
classroom was unbelievable. It had a tall loft with white stairs
climbing up to it. In the loft were a plastic coloring table and
some new toys for us to play with. Well, Erica was up in the
loft coloring with some friends.
I came up and she said to me, “Hey, we are coloring on the
table! Come color!” Although as soon as I started coloring, she
went right down the stairs told the teacher and got me in deep
trouble. This may be a strange thing to remember, but when I
look back at our preschool video that had pictures of everyone
on it, I cannot find myself. While they were recording everyone,
I was in the loft cleaning the crayon off the table. This is
something I still hold over her to this day…although I really do
not care at this point.
Erica and I were very competitive. Who was right was always the
start of our fights. We would argue about anything from the
color of the stop lights (I said the middle one was orange, she
said yellow) to the color of the school buses (I was wrong
again. I said orange, she said yellow). We were always in a
competition against one another.
Somehow we made it through preschool together, but by the time
Kindergarten came around, our parents had us at two different
schools. During the school year, we only talked and hung out
during Christmas break. We were still kind of forced to hang
out. Since we lived right down the road from one another, it was
easy for our parents to drop us off, or pick us up. It became a
tradition that during every Christmas break, Erica, my mom and I
would bake Christmas cookies. Even to this day, we still try to
bake some cookies during winter break.
Throughout elementary school it was still a love hate
relationship. I was mean and she was mean back. I wanted to be
her friend, she did not want to be mine. In middle school
though, everything changed. Her father was a builder. Due to the
recession, no one was building and his company closed up. He had
applied to a few jobs, but the one he had been accepted to, was
in Colorado. My best friend, who I did not know was my best
friend, was about to move to Colorado. The day before she was
supposed to move, I was over at their house, helping pack things
up. I remember thinking about how much I would miss her. I ran
home and hid in my closet crying. My mother eventually found me,
a short while later.
She told me in her soft caring voice, “Everything will be okay.
You should spend your last few minutes with her and have fun
together.” I walked back to her house and sat on her front step,
while Erica played in side. Her mom walked out onto the step and
sat next to me. She put her gentle arm around my body and held
me tight. I started crying again. I ran back home. I knew I
could not let Erica see me crying. A little while later, Erica
showed up at my house, I think because her mom told her too. We
played some games. I acted like nothing was wrong. Around dinner
time, my house phone range. It was Erica’s mom calling to tell
her she needed to come home, but could return immediately.
Later that night, Erica returned. She walked through the door
with a big grin upon her small face.
“I’m not moving” she shouted, “My daddy got a job here”.
She was there to stay. No need to stress. Although she did move
to another neighborhood about five minutes away, I knew that was
way better than all the way in Colorado. Her almost move to
Colorado, surely made us closer. That was when we realized we
were best friends.
Throughout the rest of middle school, we did not hang out at all
during the school year. It was too difficult for us to get to
each other’s house since we were no longer walking distance from
one another. Although, we surely talked on the phone a lot! We
both had gotten our first cell phones in 8th grade (we had the
same phone. No surprise there.). We talked every night and tried
to see each other during the weekends, although it rarely
happened. The summer going into 9th grade, we were inseparable.
We spent every moment together. We ended up getting the nickname
“Sarica” from our other friends. Between, having lemonade
stands, swinging on my rope swing and getting pulled on the
three wheeler, our summers were perfect, well for the most part.
There was one incident were I freaked out a bit on Erica. It was
a windy day and we were at the beach. We were playing in the
warm blue bay with my Big Boy beach ball I had won (not too sure
where, but I had won it somehow). The wind suddenly picked
right up as Erica threw the ball to me. It went far over my
headed in landed deep out in the deep water. I tried to swim out
and get it, but it was too far. I went to her and yelled (man,
do I feel bad about that now!). She felt bad and I could tell.
We sat on the beach the rest of the day and barely talked.
Eventually I got over it, and it was likely nothing happened.
That summer before ninth grade was by far the best summer I have
ever had. We were so close that summer. When ninth grade came
around, not much changed. We made an effort to see each other
more often. We saw each other nearly every weekend that we
weren’t busy. We were defiantly typical freshmen best friends.
We tried so many things that year and the summer following. We
snuck out often (even it was just to go down the road) and we
even tried to get high off of nutmeg! Yeah, we were weird.
Since we were hanging out so often during the school year now,
we wanted to go to the same school. We thought it would be
easier to see each other and we would become even closer. We
often begged our parents and made power points that included
reasons why we should go to the same school. Well, we did not
get very far with that.
In 10th grade, Erica went through a major tragedy in her life. I
was at a volleyball tournament four hours away from home, when I
received a voice message from Erica. I could not understand it.
She was crying. I immediately called her back. She was still
crying. I could barely understand her. I could not stand that
she was crying. It hurt me inside and I started crying.
Eventually, I heard something that I never wanted to hear.
She whimpered through the phone, “My parents are getting
divorced”.
Her parents were separating. She was heartbroken. I was
heartbroken. I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. A
divorce, after all these years? I spent the rest of the day
talking to her and my mom on the phone. It was by far, one of
the saddest days that I have experienced and also one of the
saddest for her as well.
Together we got through the tragedy. I tried to help comfort her
as much as possible. I wanted her to know I was there for her.
We grew even closer. We actually went on spring break that year
to Florida together…that was an experience.
With all the changes going on with her family, I positive thing
did come out of it all. Her parents decided to let Erica come to
my high school. We were ecstatic! We were finally going to be
able to see one another every single day. Although, this ended
up not working out so well. This was the beginning of a downfall
to our relationship. We did not talk to each other every day. We
had different friend groups at school and even on the weekends
we did not hang out.
A typical conversation in the hallway went a bit like this,
“Hey! How’s it going? You enjoying Central (Our high school)?”
“Yeah! It sweet. I have met so many people.”
That’s awesome! Well I got to get to class. See ya later!”
So not the best conversation, but when I had a problem, she was
still there for me. And when she had a problem, I was there for
her. Even though we were not together often, we knew we always
had each other’s backs.
Half way through 11th grade, things got worse. Erica was moving
in with her new boyfriend and his family. He was not what I
would call a good guy for her, but I was supportive. She also
moved to another high school. I did not here much at all from
her for long periods of time. I often listened for rumors and
then asked her if they were true or not. I always believed her
word. When her and her boyfriend got in fights she would call
me. I would always be there for her. I still cared deeply about
her, even though I had not seen her in a while. I just wanted
her to be safe and happy.
Nearly a year and a half later, she broke up with him and moved
back in with her mom. They were not getting along. They often
fought, but Erica just was not use to being under someone’s
control. Her mom and I though, were both glad to see her out of
her ex-boyfriends house.
By this time, I was starting college, but stayed in my home
town. Erica was taking some time off from school. She did not
know what she wanted to do yet. We saw each other occasionally.
With me going to school and working, I rarely had any free time.
I felt bad not seeing her often, but I was growing up (isn’t
that the excuse all adults make. “I just don’t have time”).
The summer after my first year, I put an effort in to see her
more. I knew I would not have her forever, as I was leaving for
Michigan State in the fall. I was so right there. She told me
she was moving to Portland, Oregon in the fall to go to school.
As she told me this, my heart sank. I worried what would happen.
That summer, I spent more time with Erica than I had the past
two years combined. That summer reassured that everything would
be okay. We spent hours at the beach and on the boat. We visited
each other before, after and during work. It was one amazing
summer.
All the ups and downs that we had been through together, had
prepared us for THE moment. I was moving to East Lansing, MI and
she was moving to Portland Oregon. A mere 34 hours and 22 minute
drive away. If we needed each other, we could no longer hop in
our car and go visit one another. Although, we hadn’t really
done much of that since ninth grade. We were used to
communicating only by telephone. It was like we were trained for
this. We knew what it was like to always be together, but we
also had already experienced being separated. This was the
ultimate test for us. I moved to East Lansing on August 21th
2013. She moved to Oregon 1 week later. I was not there to say
goodbye, the day she flew out, but she knew I was thinking about
her.
Now seven months later, I still call her my best friend. When
we talk, we have so much to talk about. There is never a dull
moment during our conversations. Friendship is not about
spending every waking moment together. It is not just talking to
each other. It is more. It is about being able to not see each
other for months or even years. It is to be able to not speak
with each other for a few weeks or months or even when you are
together, to have silence between the two without any
awkwardness. Although, when you do talk or see each other, it is
like you never stopped. The quote, “distance makes the heart
grow stronger” is true if your friendship is true. If the
friendship is no good, then the relationship will crumble. I
know my relationship is good. I have a forever friend no matter
where in the world we are.
#Post#: 536--------------------------------------------------
Re: memoir draft 1
By: Grace Rozanski Date: March 24, 2014, 11:44 am
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Great story Sara!
-I liked the repetition in your first paragraph with the "One
where . . ."
-I thought that you had a very strong and dominating voice
throughout and I liked that a lot
-I also liked the conversational tone of your piece. It made it
feel casual and relatable
-There were a lot of good pulls from childhood
-I think there are a lot of opportunities for you to add some
sensory detail into your piece!
-I also thin you should maybe try and work in a but more
dialogue!
-I really liked how you would put you kind of inner thoughts in
paraentheses. It added some comedy and again made it relateable.
-There are some spelling and grammar issues to look for
throughout!
Overall great job!
#Post#: 539--------------------------------------------------
Re: memoir draft 1
By: poppsar1 Date: March 24, 2014, 4:56 pm
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-I like how you wrote this so casually, kind of like a journal!
-Just check for spelling/grammatical errors! I'm sure you will,
but just a reminder :)
-Could you go into more detail about Christmas and how you felt
about you thinking your doll was better? Maybe add some sensory
detail here so we could see inside your brain and how you wanted
to be better than her.
-"Although, even though I was rude to her, she was sure to dish
it back." the beginning of this sentence is confusing - maybe
just take out "although"?
-I like the story about the crayon on the table, but could you
add a little more? Maybe some sensory detail about how you were
furious at the time?
-Could you explain the cookie making a little more? Describe the
smells, tastes, etc.
-I really like your story and it definitely has a lesson that
you learned in the end. I think you did a great job of
explaining how you felt, the ups and downs, and sharing exactly
what you felt! The last half of the story is really great and it
kept me wanting to read more!
#Post#: 547--------------------------------------------------
Re: memoir draft 1
By: nuderabr Date: March 30, 2014, 6:04 pm
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Great memoir! I thought that the message of the story is one
that almost everyone can relate to!
I was a bit confused however in the very beginning. You mention
something about a sister which got me thinking that this would
be a story about sisterhood but it wasnt, so maybe take that
little bit out. It was a little confusing.
When you made cookies, was there any specific reason behind
that? Was it some sort of family friend tradition or was it just
the neighborly thing to do?
You mention a couple times about a lake and a boat, this is just
a suggestion but maybe mention where you are. I kept thinking
that while I was reading this so maybe others will to.
When you recieved the call from Erica about her parents
splitting, why did you start crying? Was there something in her
voice that triggered it? I would explain that part more in
detail.
There are a couple grammar and spelling mistakes.
Also just a general suggestion, I would put more feeling into
the piece. What were your emotions at the exact moments that you
are describing to us in your memoir, it may help readers to
connect to your story more.
Otherwise, nice job!
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