The memories of meeting my first best friend.

 I was in 5th grade when I met my best friend that would stick with me for 5 years. Naturally, it was the first day back to school and the official end of summer. I was neither excited or disappointed. I was expecting to see every one of schoolmates there, as usual, but this year there were a ton of new kids.
I walked down the long and familiar hallway to my new classroom, clutching an old gray messenger bag. The walls were plastered with children’s artwork and posters. However, the further you got down the hallway, the less posters there would be. I was placed into a classroom with a tall blonde woman, who had a warm smile and brown eyes: Ms. Brown. Even her greeting towards me was as warm as her smile. The room had hardly filled up, so I guess people still had yet to arrive.
I was settling in at a desk when I noticed someone trying to get my attention. It was a girl with brown eyes, and dark brown hair tied into a ponytail. She called out to me, asking what my name was. When I spoke, her eyes lit up in realization. “Really? I live on your street!”
I settled for my normal response: “Oh. Cool.” Back then, I wasn’t aware of how awkward I sounded, but I was just so shy. I later found out that she really did live on my street, not that I doubted her.
It peeked my curiosity when I saw her again the next day, outside my house. My mom was on the sidewalk conversing with a very tall and large man, who I assumed was her father.  The girl spotted me in our glass door and sent me a smile. My mom waved me to come outside, which I hesitantly did, over to where they stood. The first thing I found out was the man’s name and who he was. Rick, was my mom’s childhood friend. Apparently, they too lived on the same street together when they were little. I would have never guessed it. I had forgotten the girl’s name until my mom told me how, Sydney, was also into the same toys that I liked, and the name clicked. The sun was starting to set, yet we had only talked for 25 minutes together. I wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing Sydney again, but a part of me hoped I would.
As I climbed on the noisy bus the next day and maneuvered to an empty seat, I was excited to see the familiar face of a classmate. Sydney waved me over and made room for me in the old green bus seat, while I tried to block out the deafening noise of screaming kids. Our bus was a mix of different ages, from kindergarteners to middle school students. Middle school students usually took up the back of the bus, while the youngest were at the front. It became a routine for Sydney and I to sit together at the very middle, or in a seat near the front that was available.
I was glad to have made friends with Sydney. Life wasn’t as boring as it used to be after we started hanging out together almost every day, and definitely on weekends. I used to get away with tagging along with my brother and his friend that I barely knew. I’m sure hanging out with someone my own age gave them much of a breather, though my brother had a strange dislike for Sydney, which I couldn’t understand.
Sydney was a really good friend for so many years, but eventually people move on, and make new friends. You either let go of them, or people let go of you.