When I was six years old, my best friend was Heather Weant. I haven't seen Heather for about 29 years, but if I close my eyes I can still see her face, and I can still hear her laugh, and I can still remember what her house looked like. I moved away the summer before second grade, and while we exchanged a couple of letters in the beginning, I have absolutely no idea what ended up happening to her. Still, it's with fondness that I remember this childhood friend. Almost like a first love (who I also remember with fondness), I think there's always a special place for that first real best friend.
This picture - quickly shot in a dark restaurant on a cell phone - is Everett and his own Heather Weant. I don't know where their lives are going to take them, and though I'd sincerely hope they'll always be friends, I know that there could come a time that they'll go their separate ways.
I also know that those early friendships are special, and precious, and something to be treasured. I thank God for both the times that they are sharing now, and for the future memories that they will become.
