Emma

Kindergarten

You lived just down the block from me, I could see your house from mine. We weren't friends yet, but my parents told me that you were born in Kenya where your parents converted people to Christianity.

I went to Sunday School at the time. My parents had a complicated divorce but my mom found comfort within our church community.

First Grade

Your mom didn't walk you from the car to the doors of the school, like mine did. I was intimidated by your independence. We weren't in the same class that year.

Second Grade

You invited me to your birthday party. I was so impressed by your hand drawn invitation and the obvious effort that you put into it, always the artist. You were worried that if you invited me I would only talk to Bailey; I promised I wouldn't. We played games in your basement, little competitions with candy prizes.

My family stopped going to church.

Fourth Grade

You found me by myself during recess, and invited me to a Halloween event at your church. From that day forward, we were best friends. We spent every spare moment together, running to and from each other's houses after school. Now, whenever I think back on my childhood, I'm drawn especially towards that year.

Tracking footprints in the snow during recess. Playing with stuffed animals in our bedrooms. Singing ridiculous songs that we came up with together. Doing every school project together. Any reason, any time. I knew back then, we were going to be best friends for life.

Fifth Grade

You switched schools. Went to an art school while I stayed behind a befriended a new student. You were still my neighbor though, your bus took longer to bring you home. We could still have sleepovers during the weekend though.

Sixth Grade

I moved out of the city. I was mostly excited for the change, ready to transition to a small town lifestyle, but I knew that you were upset. You gave me a photo of yourself, in a small frame shaped like a flower. You later admitted that you thought that we would never see each other again.

Seventh Grade, Eighth Grade, Ninth Grade

We saw each other a lot less than we used to, but our parents helped by driving us to each other's homes often enough to sustain our friendship. Despite the distance, I still considered you my best friend.

I realized that I wasn't Christian. None of my new friends were either.

Tenth Grade

We went to summer camp together. It was centered around horses, and having never ridden, I didn't want to go alone. You agreed and we spent a week together in tents, with no showers or bathrooms; cooking our meals over an open campfire.

There was a girl there, her name was Sarah. It was the first time I'd ever questioned my sexuality.

Eleventh Grade

Between the pandemic and my mom's husband gaining more control over my life, I didn't get to see you much anymore. I rarely even had the opportunity to call you after they took my phone away during our 4-5 months of quarantine.

I started coming to terms with my identity as a queer person.

Twelfth Grade

My friend gave me an old laptop so I was able to call people over discord whenever my parents left the house. With my step-dad's new rules I didn't get a chance to actually spend time with you, but we still made time to call each other and check in.

My parents took me into the city so that I could get more familiar with the transit system there. I snuck around behind their backs and met you at the mall. I deleted all the messages about us meeting up. They never found out.

I came out as queer to my school friends and my brother. I didn't tell you.

Now

I moved back to the city. You're a province away, in bible college, but now we can finally spend time together without my parents controlling me. We meet up when you're home from school, but I can't help but feel like I've already lost you.

Last time I saw you was a day before Christmas Eve. You drove through a huge blizzard to pick me up at a train station and back to your house. (in hindsight it was an awful decision, but we made it anyway) Before supper, you asked me if I was worried about Heaven and Hell. I never told you that I stopped believing in God because I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore. I left your house that night with a bible that I buried in my closet.

When I spend time with you now, I feel like I'm hiding. I'm so tired of having to hide myself, taking my pride flag off of the wall, stashing it back into the closet whenever you come to visit. I'm hiding my religious beliefs (or lack of), hiding my queerness, hiding all the aspects of my personality that would make you uncomfortable.

All because I'm afraid to lose you.

But realistically, I already have.