Valentines’ Day is just around the corner (another one my favorite candy related holidays), and emotions are high. I view this day as an excuse to eat an entire box of chocolate, but some people see it differently. First loves, new loves, and reconnections shimmer with possibility, and I was inspired to search for an old friend of mine.
I didn’t like elementary school. The teachers were strict and humorless, the work was boring, and some kid kept stealing my lunch. The one thing that made it bearable was my best friend, Melissa. She and I were inseparable; we were Laverne and Shirley, Mary and Rhoda, Tom Hanks and Wilson the volleyball. We’d bring our Archie comics to school and trade them back and forth, giggle together in class, and take turns pushing each other on the swings. Once, I was having trouble with a worksheet on analog clocks, and I whispered to Melissa for help. “I can’t tell you the answers,” she whispered back, “but I know you can do it!”
The following year, my parents moved our family to a bigger house, which meant Melissa and I would be at different schools. How could this happen? After many tears and two broken hearts, we promised to keep in touch. What followed was something amazing: a ten-year long pen pal friendship, with letters and cards mailed back and forth. Melissa and I would exchange stickers, poems, and magazine articles. I sent her my very favorite book (about an angel in love with his human girlfriend) and made her swear she’d return it when finished (she did). Stamps were purchased in bulk, and trips to the post office were made amidst our busy lives. Every few days, I’d make the twenty-minute walk down my street to the mailbox; if there was nothing from Melissa, I’d make the return journey uphill, and she would get an earful on our next phone call.
Melissa’s birthday parties were the stuff of legends. One year she had a toga party (my mother draped me in a bedsheet secured with pins), one year she had a luau, and one year she had a murder mystery party. Her other friends and I were all in our party clothes, eating snacks, when Melissa walked into the room, collapsed on the floor, and held up a placard that said, “I HAVE BEEN MURDERED!” We followed a series of clues around the house and yard while shrieking about her tragic death.
Our letter writing campaign eventually died out, and Melissa and I lost touch. I thought about her over the years, and hoped she was doing well. Life got in the way: graduations, travel, work, weddings, kids. Melissa lived in a corner of my heart. I kept all her letters in a cigar box, including the envelopes (she had Garfield address stickers that I always envied).
Recently, I found the time to track her down. I sent her an email, hoping I’d found the right person. To my great delight, Melissa wrote back! She was thrilled that I had found her, and we set up a video chat. I don’t know what she’s been drinking, but she must have stumbled into the Fountain of Youth along the way. She doesn’t look a day older than when I last saw her. We reminisced and laughed about old times. I reminded her of our Archie comic obsession, and she reminded me of an unfortunate spiky hairdo I once had. In one of life’s great twists, Melissa and I are once again pen pals. I’ve got a new box dedicated solely for her letters.
I’m so glad I reconnected with my friend. We were together for such formative periods of our lives, and she left an indelible mark on my heart. This Valentine’s Day, I’m looking forward to sharing more stories and memories with my old pal. Which reminds me – I need to buy some stamps because I owe her a letter!
