Sarah was the best friend in high school. We met during my sophomore and her freshman year of high school through our mutual friend, Carolina.
She never sang in chorus class, she never wore pants, and she ate pineapple even though she was allergic to it.
She was my partner in crime for three years of my life.
She helped me get to know my button press, and I taught her how to knit.
I cut her hair and she cut mine.
We were as thick as the soles on a pair of Chucks, basically.
But like the black rubber ring that's attached to the sole of my favorite sneakers, things eventually fell apart.
I left for college, she became more serious with her steady beau, and we drifted.
I mourned the loss of our friendship for years.
I found out that Sarah died the day before I left for my first tour. Her boyfriend, Mark, came to my parents house while I was packing, to tell me. It wasn't until I was on the road that it hit me that it was real, and it wasn't until I returned home that I came to terms with the fact that she was actually gone.
I've been so blessed to have warm friendships with beautiful, lovely people, but none of them have ever been like Sarah, and I don't think that any other could ever be like Sarah.
She was such a redwood.