Tell us about your first friend.
My first best friend, outside of my family, was a Deborah, too. Although, she had the spelling I coveted. We were complete opposites. I was a bit surprised, during 5th grade, when she asked me to spend the night with her. I was a bit scared, too. I had never spent the night with anybody that wasn’t family. Before long, though, staying all night at Deborah’s was a regular thing. My parents were more strict on me than hers were.
We did crazy things like climbing out of her bedroom window at night and running up and down the main highway. I think back on it now in terror and thankfulness; terror of what could have happened to us and thankfulness that God watched over us and kept us safe. Only one time did anyone stop, an older man who was by himself. He tried to talk to us but we took off running for Deborah’s driveway and he drove away. We didn’t do that again for awhile.
Deborah was everything I was not. She was blonde, pretty, she had a booty, and was very outgoing. I had brown hair, my body was very straight and thin, and I was shy and preferred to stay at home reading, but it was good that Deborah got me out of my shell and showed me what life could be.
We would go to the skating rink every Saturday night. They turned the skating rink into a dance floor at 10 p.m. and a live band would play while we danced. Of course, Deborah knew all the band and their sisters. One was our age, but went to a different school. So, we all became friends and of course, I fell in love with a boy in the band. Unfortunately, he didn’t know I existed, so the romance was all in my head.
We were friends and did a lot of wild things, for four years. Then my family moved to another town about 60 miles away. At first, we wrote each other every week, and still spent the night with each other every now and then, but then Deborah started to date and our weekends together got further apart.
I made new friends at my new school, but none of them were ever that close; spending the night with each other and so on. One of my friends lived right next door to me. She was a year older than me, and we were more alike, than Deborah and me.
I became pregnant and married during my senior year of high school. Deborah got married, too, but she didn’t want children. She came to see me once, after my oldest was born, but it was kind of awkward. We didn’t have very much in common. We do still talk, about once a year or so, but my talk is about my grandchildren and her talk is about the latest outfit and accessories. There are some good memories, though.