Do you remember? Do you remember when we first met, when the sun was shining and the birds were singing, the clouds flocculent in the clear blue sky. Do you remember falling off the swing, and I, being the little child I was, stood there and laughed at you?

I recall that day clearly, etched at the forefront of my mind: you and your red eyes and loud wail - so piercing against the quiet, warm summer breeze.

That was the day our friendship began.

My friend, do you remember, the time when we first wore on our uniforms and treaded our little feet to school side by side with our parents walking behind us, chatting ever so happily. We were placed in the same class and you never left my side. At lunch we sat beneath the school’s only almond tree, away from the others as we shared our food. We claimed it as ours that day, and no one ever really came near it besides us. You came over to play that afternoon, and we spent the evening colouring in picture books and playing our childish games, building forts out of the sofa pillows, messing up the room with our imaginative minds.

Your parents didn’t pick you up until late at night when we both had already fallen asleep in our make-believe castle, with the television playing reruns of my favourite Rugrats show, cookie crumbs still lingering on our upper lip. The next day, you came over again afterschool, and we continued with our adventure: you the prince, and I, the princess, whom had to save you from the wrath of the three-eyed, five headed, four arms, fire breathing tyrannosaurus, or so you liked to call it, Mr Park, our science teacher. You seemed to dislike him very much since he moved you to a different seat and at lunch as we sat under the tree as the warm wind tousled our hair; you told me he was an alien sent from the planet of Jupiter to separate our friendship. I could only laugh at your silly creativity causing you to cross your arms and stare at me disbelievingly.

“It’s true!” You whined.

I had to sacrifice my peanut butter sandwich that day in order to silence your anecdotes and suppositions. That was only the second day of school, and we were only five at that time, our friendship brighter than ever.

Our first argument happened a year later when I made a new friend in class and invited them to sit with me at lunch under the tree. You gave me the silent treatment for a few days and didn’t come around to my house even after I offered my sandwich so many times and asked you what was wrong. On the fourth day when my friend was absent from school, you finally caved in and yelled at me as we sat side by side leaning against the trunk of our tree.

“It’s our tree. This is our tree!” You spoke grumpily.

“I know.” I replied with a shrug.

You chewed on your lunch sullenly as you continued to declare your frustration, “I don’t want anyone else here. I don’t want to lose you.”

I chuckled at your pouted lips, “Silly. I will always be your friend.” I said as I smiled at you, holding out my pinkie, “I promise.”

You quickly hooked your pinkie into mine and smiled widely with glistening eyes, “Okay… you said so.”

Months later my friend found a new group and our friendship resumed to just the two of us. Just you and I, our castle, our cookies, our colouring books and our tree. At the age of six, to your declaration, I made you a promise, and it was a promise I was destined to keep no matter what.

My friend, do you remember, our first camping trip to the woods beside the lake? Our families had become evidently closer due to our friendship and they had planned this trip for us during the autumn break. It was chilly, but it was bearable. The route there was picturesque, surrounding us with the saturated colours of orange, yellow and red. We played and stomped in the shattered leaves, we built the tent together like we did with the pillows at home and rode out to the middle of the lake on your father’s small boat. As our fathers fished on one side, we occupied the other, playing with our reflection against the water. It was a beautiful day and I remember so distinctly the smile you had on your face as you watched the water sparkle beneath your fingertips.

When the sun was about to set we headed back to the tents as we marvelled over the scenery’s magnificent beauty; our mothers were laughing and talking jovially beside the campfire with cups of hot chocolates in their hands. We cooked the fish and had roasted marshmallows for dinner. You and I, we watched the stars peppering the sky in its evanescent beauty talking about a future that was far too ahead of us. You mentioned to me about wanting to become a businessman like your father, and I told you about the volunteering work I wanted to do with my mother. We breathed in the fresh air of the world, and breathed out the innocent thoughts of our future.

It was the same year that we said goodbye to our dearest almond tree. We were eleven then, finishing off our primary school years, and getting ready to move onto more mature things, or so we liked to think. You cried that day, and being the one to always comfort you, I gave you my sandwich. How funny you had been when you walked up to Mr Park that day, with tears b your eyes as you apologised for calling him a three eyed, five headed, four arms, fire breathing tyrannosaurus behind his back. I don’t ever think I saw the man laugh so hard in his years of teaching.

“You’re actually the coolest teacher.” You admitted to him. “I’m going to miss you.”

He smiled dearly at you, rubbing your already messy hair, “I’ll miss you too little man.” I could see tears in his eyes as he looked at the both of us. “And you too missy.” He said. I could only grin sadly.

You slept over at my place that day, and it was our first official sleepover since your parents had always picked you up some time late at night. Although older now, we still built a fort in my bedroom and hid away under the cushions and blankets. We read books and laughed together, made up stories and tales and talked about high school. You told me you were scared, and I told you I was too, but being the person I was, I reassured you that everything would be fine.

“We’ll stay friends right?” You asked doubtfully as the moon began to shine through the curtains of my window.

I shook my head and laughed as I the nightlight, “Of course. Didn’t I tell you I would always be your friend?”

Smiling, you pulled up the blanket and tucked yourself in, nodding your head as I crawled into the fort that we built and closed my eyes. I listened to the sound of your even breath and fell asleep to the soothing rhythm.

That break, we spent almost everyday