Friendship is a part of life.

    This is a true story about my brother Purple Eye and his best friend.  I hope that you will enjoy. I wrote this story with some of the dialog that we use in the Southland.

            Hello there! My name is Johnny. I have a story I would like to tell you. It’s about a boy named Paul and me.        

But first I want to let you in on something, you see, friendships are priceless, friendships are a part of life.  Everybody has friends - whether they’re a good person or bad. We all lose friends, such as, someone moving or perhaps you no longer see eye to eye on things. But no matter the reason, it always hurts just the same. You don’t always get to tell each other good bye, many times you may have talked to a friend and have never realized that it would be the last time that you would ever see each other again.  But whatever happens we always need to realize it’s a part of life.

Making new friends is also a part of life. Often times, we’re shy with someone new. At other times, you meet people and like each other right 'off the bat'. But no matter the situation, friendship is one of the greatest things on earth. And so here goes my story of my best friend, Paul, and me.

I remember the first time that I met Paul. It had been a cold and snowy couple of days in January. Dad and mama invited a family over for dinner. We had only met them once before at a church Christmas Play. Having met their oldest boy before, I noticed that he was interested in a lot of the same things that I was. And so, I got my room all ready to play with the new boy. I don’t quite remember much of what we played, but we boys, along with the rest of the family, were new friends.

            Both of our dads were preachers and in a period of a year started a church. So Paul and I got see each other almost every Sunday.

            Every Sunday after church, we imagined everything from Louis and Clark to cowboys to medieval knights. On each Sunday, we would make a decision on what we wanted to pretend or explore for the next Sunday.

            Paul and I were somewhat different from the normal world - we were homeschooled and lived in large families. We also liked climbing trees as high as we could possibly go. And we would bring our sling shots and have competitions to see who could shoot the best. Sometimes we would shoot our BB guns or .22’s.

            A couple of times our dads took us on father and son campouts and late night fishing on the river. Paul's and my deepest desire were to be like our dads. We thought they were strong and adventurous.

            I remember one year Paul got some high impact battle swords. For weeks to come, he and I played Robert the Bruce and William Wallace for hours every Sunday.

            I could not tell you the times that Paul and I have wrestled, doing what only boys can do. Many a time, one of us would get a sucker punch in the belly and would be hurt at the other, but it would soon be over and once again we would be on the ground.

 Believe me, if we even got so much as near to a creek we both seemed to come home with a jar full of crawdads, pants caked with mud and wet and sweaty faces, arms and feet.

            There were times when we would make fun of each other. One would lose respect for the other, so that we

 would have to rebuild trust over time.

            But with all the times that we were wrestling, silly, climbing trees or sharing dinners with each other, some of the best times were when we would study the Bible together.

            I never thought at the time, growing up would be so hard. Time grows longer, our families grow bigger, and we boys grow taller. It was when Paul’s voice was changing and the taller he grew, it seemed to me that the year between us was larger than what I thought.

            But at the time, our families weren’t just growing bigger, but also our families were growing different in our beliefs. And one day Paul and his family left without saying good bye.

            Seeing that I was a boy, I never wanted to tell anybody that  I spent many a night crying over the loss of my best friend, Paul.

            One day Paul visited to say good bye, for he was moving. But when Paul came to tell me, he and I had changed. We didn’t wrestle or explore, and he didn’t even talk to me the way he used to. But finally I realized it was a part of life.

            So that’s my story of Paul, my best friend. Even though I have met many new friends, I never have and never will find a friend like Paul. It’s a part of life.

            It’s hard when growing up with friends, especially when they are older than you, like Paul was to me. The older person matures and changes before the other and so you’re hurt because you’re not yet there.

            And so we need to remember that there is no need to feel sorry for ourselves, for it’s a part of life.

                                                                                                                             Written by: Grace