Revisiting Childhood

AN: Don't even ask me!!!!!

I went to visit my best and oldest friend the other day.
She wasn't home, so I stood upon her walkway, dotted with violets and roses and weeds gone astray.
Her house was minute and its paint chipped off long ago.
The door was weathered and left in poor condition.
It hadn't been opened in years.

At one end of the house, the bleeding sun sunk into the shadowed horizon.
At the other side, blue mist awakened from the night's sleep as a pale sun peeked above the dew-covered trees.
Through a boarded window I saw the waxing moon shine its light on the somber home.
Through another, I saw it wane.
A star winked at me then.

The once clear sky became shrouded in clouds.
The house melted with the mist.
Roses and lilies and weeds wilted, curled, and browned.
Thunder beat its heavy drums with force.
And a raindrop landed at the tip of my nose.

My friend did not come.
The rain slid down my face, beaded on my hair.
I did not flee to the porch nor did I move until I saw the smile.
It came from the mist, fluidly and unerringly.
That was when I began to laugh.

I danced and glided in the rain.
It was rapture, it was bliss.
It was she.
I could not, cannot, ask for a better friend though gone now and left behind in the ashes of the past.
There is none in the universe that is better.