I can’t remember my
first infant cry or the breath connected to that cry, but I know that they
happened. It seems that in our lives there is an unspoken rule that we remember
our firsts. It’s because in these pivotal moments that we have an opportunity
to transcend a horizon in our lives as we tightrope across that band between
the past and the future. We are at our most vulnerable in the journey to the
other side because it is a first.
That's why we usually
remember our firsts with
crystalline clarity. However, I cannot recall the moment Alysha and I
became best friends. Our development as friends wasn’t a time jarring moment;
rather a sliver, a moment that I took with me that changed me forever. Our
friendship was inevitable in the way that it just came into existence, in
Alysha I found a true soul sister.
Alysha was a
beautiful bright eyed eighteen-year old, who owned enough gypsy headbands to
wear for an entire month, which she in fact did. She was a successful self
taught
photographer whose mastery of
catching natural light was enviable. I on the other hand was an anxious
twenty-year old Navajo who was struggling through her junior year at the
University majoring in Creative Writing. I couldn’t manage my time well and
suffered the repercussions of that. Alysha on the other hand hadn’t yet started
college and she lived in a townhome a few blocks away from mine with her
brothers and newly divorced mother. In small town Smithfield, Utah, Alysha was
an anomaly, sporting a strawberry blonde pixie cut with large hoop earrings
most likely made in some obscure town in South America. Alysha’s family was
Canadian with polite vocabulary such as sorey (sorry) and beag (bag),
her accent made her even more of a novelty in our not so diverse hometown.
She truly was a
gypsy, never staying in one place for too long. Her colorful past included
living in British Columbia, Washington, and Colorado, when to her dismay she
moved to small town in Cache Valley filled with cows, tractors, and people who
dropped their “t’s” and didn’t shop on Sundays. She definitely
wasn’t your every day Molly Cache Valley, but neither was I. Although I had
lived in Cache Valley for fifteen years, I was raised traditionally Navajo,
with ceremonies, and adorned with turquoise squash blossoms from the moment I
could walk.
However, she and I
were different types of different; I wore my differences with unmet eyes and a
heavy hand of sarcasm. She wore hers in an inviting smile and a laugh that
could be heard from the other room. Alysha taught me to own my differences and
be unashamedly myself. She taught me to be passionate about everything- from
pinpricked pines, to the way a pair of sport leggings made you look like a
million bucks; I discovered that disguised in the seemingly ordinary was the
brilliant. I finally learned how to breathe and live in
moments rather than just waiting for them to pass. During drives through a
blushing fall canyon, I learned that being passionate about something-
anything- wasn’t a weakness, rather the greatest expression of self that we
could wield as humans.
So we cried
in mountains, either because something was so funny or because the weight of
our lives was too much at that time. Our conversations were sped up
by fading light and lit by headlamps during night rock climbing. In nature we
found ourselves as inseparable as a constellation in the night sky. We stole
into nature when we couldn’t understand our selves, when she couldn’t accept a
new step-mother, when I struggled to connect with my estranged father, and when
we didn’t have faith in ourselves.
Alysha taught me so
many things such as the art of flirting, how to pee in the woods, and how to
tie a cherry stem with your tongue. Together we perfected the art of eye
conversations. We traversed sketchy trails in nature and navigated the changing
seasons of our lives. She was my soul-sister, rock-climbing partner, nature
buddy, photographer, and inspiration. Through her camera lens I found a beauty
in myself I had never seen before, the beauty that was lit by living your
truth.
And
then, I found myself standing in front of the door way of her home, the smell
of a soy candle burning from the kitchen wafting through the hall. She handed
me a notebook and a bar of chocolate from our favorite free-trade store. Alysha
was about to leave for eighteen months on a service mission in which she
couldn’t be reached, except by snail mail. We wore tears shamelessly, as we
usually did.
“I’m
going to miss you so much.” I cried, “Who else is going to eat burritos with
me?”
“Don’t
forget the burgers.” She laughed, mascara marathon-ing down her face.
We hugged. Our sobs rocking us
noticeably in-between awkward laughs, I floundered for what to say to her, some
collection of words that encapsulated the last few months that we had been best
friends. Our title was somewhat new, but felt fitting. My mind flashed through
inside jokes, mountain passes, Freudian slips, and vegging out on her couch. I
couldn’t find anything to say, so I hugged her one last time and pulled away.
“Goodbye.”
She said.
“See
you later.” I corrected.
“Exactly.”
She said.
I went home and opened up my notebook
and enveloped within the flap was a letter typed on her grandfather’s
typewriter.
Dear Stacie,
You
are my best friend. I didn’t even know it was possible for someone to
understand me so well. You have taught me so much about myself and about life
because of your fearless authenticity and passion about being who you are and
living your dreams.
I
don’t know how I will ever be able to thank you, and I sure as hell don’t know
how I’m going to live without seeing you for eighteen months. My soul is just
so content around you, you know?
I
find it really interesting that you walked into my life right as Hannah was
walking out of it. I think that it was meant to be, you know? I’m
99% sure you’re going to change the world through your writing and through
service. I am beyond lucky that I had the chance to be friends with such an
incredible person. I’m going to miss you and our adventures and 3 am
conversations more than anything. You are the greatest soul sister and best
friend a girl could ever have.
I LOVE YOU
love, Alysha
There on unlined
paper was the definition of our friendship, creased by her hand. My greatest
friendship didn’t need to be a circus show rather it was a small thing that
became a part of me, like a
sliver.
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