My tether

When I was in the fifth grade, my parents decided to move from our awesome home in Dallas, Texas, to the suburbs of Northeast Ohio, so that we could be closer to our family.  I was crushed.  As everyone knows, Texas is the best state in the country, with the best people, the best food, the best heritage.  Being from Ohio (or living in Ohio) is one of the lamest claims an American can make.  My mom tried to talk things up on the drive north, and I wanted to be positive about uprooting my whole life, but it really didn't work.  With that attitude, its no surprise that 6th grade was the worst year of my life.  I found myself in North Canton, attending elementary school (whereas in our district in Texas, one went to Intermediate school for 5-6, then middle school for 7-8) with a group of kids who had known each other since Kindergarten, were already divided in "cliques" (a term I learned after the first week of school), and didn't talk, dress, or act like anybody I knew back in Texas.  I stuck out, I had a hard time making friends, and all of this made it hard to focus in class, so I found myself getting terrible grades on top of everything else.  I tried to join a group:  I played flag football with the sporty girls, swung with the cheerleaders, played in the snow with the sensitive gay boy, and played tetherball with the really mean, competitive kids.  Then I found myself spending time with the nicest people I had met so far: the band kids.  When faced with the option at my school in Texas the year before, I had quickly declined joining the school's band.  Now it didn't seem so bad.  Three girls named Erin, Jenny, and Melissa were all in band, and by the year's end, they were my group, so I signed up for clarinet lessons so I could join the middle school band in 7th grade. 

In the sort of confusing, sudden way that these things happen in childhood, by the following year, Melissa had become my best friend.  I used to think she was strange when she would leap from her chair in 6th grade science, and with her long legs in multi-colored leggings, I thought she looked like a frog.  But when Erin went to private school, and Jenny was in different classes, Melissa and I became a duo.  We had enough in common that to this day, I can't recall ever having a fight with her, and our differences became a way to get each other out of our ruts.  I was completely committed to dressing comfortably, which meant jeans and t-shirts everyday, but in high school, Melissa decided we should have dress up days when we wore skirts or dresses to school.  Sometimes I had to borrow something from my sister, but I always went along because it was more important to do something special with Melissa than to keep being myself.

Melissa also taught me how to dance.  I trust her taste in music completely; if she gives me a cd or tells me about a band she saw, I will listen immediately, because I know I'll hear something great.  We used to love to go out to the teen clubs, then in college, she convinced me to go to my first frat party with her at OSU.  Even though the bathroom didn't have toilet paper, the night was fun because I was with Melissa.

Through the turbulent, awful years of middle and high school, I felt like I was stuck in the middle of the ocean without a raft; between peer pressures to smoke or drink, increasingly difficult classes, and the really confusing world of dating, I could have easily drowned if Melissa hadn't been right there beside me, holding me accountable the way only a best friend can.  With her tethered to me, I didn't just keep my head above water, I swam.  When I look back, I think about how fun high school turned out to be.  Bringing birthday cake to school to have a party for my friend at lunch, spending study halls in a music room while Melissa played "Time After Time" (to the point that I can't hear this song and not think of her), eating candy on the band bus to an away game, posing for silly pictures, riding our bikes (later driving) to the pool in the summer, hours long phone calls after having spent the day together.  In my mind, we are still those 18 year old girls graduating, with our futures completely open in front of us, college looming ahead, although 12 years have passed and we are now celebrating our 30th birthdays!

Easily the second worst year of my life was my first year in college.  Melissa had gone to OSU, it was her destiny, and I wound up at Kent State not knowing anyone, with a quad of crazy girls as roommates.  The only bright times were the weekends when Melissa would come up from Columbus, or I would make the trip down to see her, and I could feel like myself again.  I loved how our friendship didn't change when weeks went by without seeing each other, we could just pick up where we left off.  I loved how Melissa never said anything bad about my boyfriend (good thing too, since he's now my husband).  I loved how she came to my college graduation, and how I was able to attend hers, and how we managed to live in a house in Columbus together afterwards.  I loved when she met her husband, after wasting so many years on really unworthy boyfriends, and that we got married the same year, and so often found ourselves experiencing the same situation, whether it was buying a house, changing jobs, then having kids.  I love that I still feel like she has my back, that even on my worst days, I can say at least someone has liked me every step of the way.  I hope that I reciprocate all of these things to her, and that our friendship continues until we are old and gray.  I hope that I continue to explore new things because of her, and that she can say the same.