Most people say that a best friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out. Well, they’re wrong. A best friend cannot be described on a sheet of paper or confined to a sentence or a cliché. They cannot be held in your hands (most of the time) and are not confined to a box or scrapbook. They only live on in your heart and memories forever, and that is much better than a sentence ever could say. One can only hope that they stay forever ingrained on that person’s heart. My story starts in the sixth grade when one special person walked into my life and changed it forever.

“Ladies, welcome our newest member of the group,” Mrs. Burger said with a smile. Most of us at the table had been a part of the youth group for several years and none of us had ever seen this dark-haired girl before, but we decided that we should make the most of it. Throughout many camps and retreats through church we became friends, and then we found out that we both went to the same school. What a coincidence! Except that it wasn’t coincidence at all. My favorite middle school memory is during the theater production class, there was a boy that liked her and we came up with the scheme that she would outright flirt with another guy in the class to get the other boy turned away from her. It was hilarious and basically defined our middle school years together, so care-free. We never thought that it would change, but that is the innocence of middle school.

I can’t say all of the details of what happened but all you need to know is that my best friend got lost, so, so very lost when she got to high school. I did too, just in a different way than she did. We lost some connection in the middle of junior year when I found out that we had a broken pact. Those few months of not speaking to one of the only people that had meant anything in my life. I mean, I had other friends, but it wasn’t the same. A hole six feet deep had formed in my chest where my heart lay, and she was the only one who had any chance of reviving it. She had tried reconnecting but I wasn’t ready because the scars hadn’t fully scabbed yet and still were raw. I finally let her back into my life and it was like I had splashed my face with cold water. Refreshing and new, pure and whole, and all I could think the next couple of week was why did I not want this back? It was a beautiful thing to hear my heart smile again.

We grew from obnoxious high schoolers to somewhat mature young adults and we were still the same two peas in a pod. We made new friends and lost old ones but we never lost each other. No matter who tried to steal her away from me, she would always find time to still be my best friend. We went through church and mission trips, school and musicals without anything major happening. We would tell each other huge secrets and I was the only white special paired dancer at her quincenera, which was awkward enough not to mention that I didn’t know the steps either. I knew the inner-most workings. She was in the car with me when I got flashed down by the police on my first solo trip to Yogurtland for not having my headlights on. All friends have their rough spots, and even if we had a period of not talking, and even though we have hurt each other-physically or mentally- the laughs outweigh anything else. I remember walking out to my car and seeing paint all over it and immediately knowing who did it. I remember speech class with her and Jenna and I all quoting Hot Rod even though I had never seen it. Sleepovers with unspeakable contests and those days where we would just want someone to sit next to and watch T.V. with. When our hearts and homes were broken, and all we wanted to was to cry and not be alone. I got to share South padre, Austin, Houston, a rainy day at Fiesta Texas, ten days in Chicago, running away from our crazy chaperone on a Boston 4th of July celebration, Colorado, and England with my best friend. I have watched her grow through hardship and never falling away from my side, no matter how broken and fragile I personally was or even when she had her moments. She really even stopped being my friend and became my sister when my mom said that she loved having a second daughter and she started calling my mom “Momma Moon”. Countless harry potter marathons and the quoting of jar jar binks from star wars and our annual Halloween scary movie fest. Our addiction to hot men on the big screen. Mine is James McAvoy and hers is Jake Gyllinhall. Quietly giggling at some inside joke while trying to pay attention to a sermon. Finishing each other’s sentences and you can often hear us scream at each other in the hallways, “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” At other times you may see us just intently staring at each other and then burst into laughter with no true explanation of why we did. We just did. It was like God made us both and said “Oh they might scare anyone else, so I might as well put them together.” I can be completely sarcastic and she still knows I’m joking. I don’t know her favorite color but I do know her biggest dream is to start a rape victim hospital and camp in Vietnam. I don’t know her absolute favorite food, but I do know that she loves her family dearly and would put them in front of anything. I know that she missed me as much as I missed her when I was in India and I KNOW that even though we are going to school in completely different directions, we will never give up on each other and always and forever be best friends. There is no definition to full convey my best friend, because there is no set definition for Darlene. Salt and pepper forever.