Stop and Stare

I met him on the most beautiful day. Outside it was storming, the kind of storm with rain pounding on the ground, light cracking through a midnight blue sky, wind howling like a pack of angry wolves. There I stood, in the middle of the ritzy shopping plaza my friends and I frequented, watching the rain hit the pavement, the water in the fountain, and the tower palms. I didn’t hear him walk up to me, in fact I didn’t notice him until he spoke. He asked me if he could buy me a coffee, surprising as I was drenched and probably looks like the living dead, and I agreed. We talked and talked for hours about anything and everything. I learned he went to Verot( our rival private school), he hoped to go to UPenn and become a doctor, he wrote poetry, and played soccer, lacrosse, and polo (the kind played on horses) and that crickets terrified him, his life goal, he biggest insecurities, and the list went on. As we parted, phone numbers in hand, I realized that I had found out more about him in 3 hours then half of my so called friends whom I known for half my life. In a matter of weeks he had become my best friend and in less than a years time I would find that he had become my brother. He was the one person I could count on to be there, to be completely honest with me, and to never let me settle for less than the best. He pushed me to apply to colleges I thought I would never get into, send my design portfolio to schools I thought wouldn’t give me a second glance, and try for a scholarship I thought to be a mere fantasy. When I look back at it now merely three years later, I realize he helped shaped the person I am. I was 17 and without a clue as to who I was or where I wanted to go. He helped me to forget everything that ever held me back from going after what I really wanted. He helped me to realize that “no matter how impossible something may seem, you might as well give it a shot, you never you what will happen.” Most of all though he helped me stop pretending, to stop trying to please everyone, and just be me.
The day he left for UPenn was the first time I cried in public. As he walked away, I felt as though he had taken a piece of me with him. Phone calls and email have helped shorten the distance, but nothing could beat having him here.