Five Times Kyle First. Kindergarten. We were the same age and height, which is all that matters when making friends at that age. And height.

Second. Grade three science fair. We were once again partners, as we’d been the year before and the years to come. We always had the best project, and got first place all but once. He came to every one of my birthdays and I went to every one of his. We played football.

Third. Grade seven, the first year in a new school. His shoes got too big for his feet and he couldn’t be bothered to be associated with me. We did not work on a science fair project together.

Fourth. Grade twelve. The whole class was passing around yearbooks to leave each other messages and well-wishing for the future. I got his and wrote something – kind, I’m sure, brief, I hope – and when I got mine back from him, I looked over each page and found nothing. Not even an imperfect scribbled signature over his picture.

Fifth. A few years ago, we found ourselves at the same table in the same bar back home for the holidays. I looked over to him, gave him a quick nod of the head, the way guys say hello without actually saying hello. He looked away.

And now we’re still the same age and height, but only one of has grown up.  ¶ 7:26 AM