Abandon

At the age of three, I had a best friend named Alex. We lived across the street from each other in historical Forest Grove. Almost every day, either one of us would ask to go over to play. One morning, I woke up and ran from my bedroom, still in my pajamas, to the living room window. I could see Alex’s house from there. In front, was a van and a trailer hooked up to it. My mother wandered out of her room heading to the kitchen, I yelled for her and asked if I could hang out with Alex. She then informed me that him and his family were moving away. Somewhere far. Three year old me yearned for a goodbye; for many years I still did. Wondering why my best friend never thought to give me one last hug, and why I’ve never heard from him since.