I believe in the healing power of memories. In my lifetime, I have learned that memories will always their promise to ameliorate pain.
I hear her familiar voice echoing down the hall, high-pitched and clear, contrasting sharply from all of the surrounding background noises during a locker break. She is so familiar to me; I can recognize her voice anywhere. Inconspicuously, I hide and observe her from behind my locker while pretending to select books for my next class. As she walks, she jokes and giggles with her friends, who are some girls that I have never known. Swinging her brand-name purse and tossing her long blonde hair, she brushes past me without a single acknowledging glance. Then she disappears, swallowed up by the thousands of kids lining the hallways. Everyday, I torture myself by watching her furtively, waiting and hoping for her to make eye contact or give some sign that she still remembers our long-gone friendship.
I remember the first time I met Candace in my eighth grade language arts class. “Candace,” the teacher called out, reading her attendance list. Candace, a quiet girl with short blonde hair situated at the back of the room, raised her hand.
As autumn passed and winter began, our language arts class grew rowdy as classmates established new friendships. I was laughing with my friends when I noticed that Candace was still sitting alone at her desk. Worry and sadness clenched my heart knowing that Candace did not have any friends of her own in class. Finally, I summoned up the courage to approach Candace, who was dozing on her desk. Stammering slightly, I said, “Hey, are you okay?” Slowly, Candace raised her head and gazed at me for a moment, surprised and unsure, then broke into a smile, her blue eyes glittering with hope as an unforgettable friendship began.
Candace became the light of my life. After I coaxed her to talk, she opened her heart; I learned that she possessed a funny, witty, and bubbly personality. Candace’s ocean-blue eyes were so bright, deep, and trustworthy; I swear they could light up anyone's day. Her laughter was like opening a long-awaited gift, treasured and unforgettable. We bonded quickly, and soon Candace and I shared infinite inside jokes, laughed until we cried, and talked until our jaws hurt. In time, I saw a changed, confident girl emerge from her cocoon.
Before long, Candace stepped out of my life. Other girls noticed Candace’s change in personality and accepted her, so Candace chose to sever our friendship. Candace was my candle in the darkness, and when she left, she took back her fire, leaving me lost and alone.
Even though three years have passed since Candace walked away, I still feel a throb in my heart every time she passes by me at school. Watching her walk past is like a sharp thorn: My heart attempts to heal, but it constantly fails due to her constant presence that irritates my wound. I am devastated to have lost her as a friend, but I have learned that all I must do is close my eyes and remember all of the times that we spent together. Memories are shared, true, and unchangeable, but the gift about memories is that they last forever. Memories are the ointment for healing wounds of loss, and when loved ones walk away, memories will heal the pain.