When I was twelve I had a friend called Chris.
Chris was nice, possibly one of the nicest people I have ever met. Forever the gentleman, and not just for flirting's sake. Chris was a great guy.
We spent most of the time together: hanging out, swimming, acting out stories around a small camp fire. We'd go to town, play hide and seek and listen to music which can only be described as original skater-pop.
But then Chris left, just left, and I was on my own. I had no friend next door, all my friends were a fair walk away. I was no longer the girl next door, nor he the boy.
These days all of my friends live an hour or more away, and that's by car, goodness know how long by walk.
I have our memories, our magic, the fun, the music and the ideas we fabricated on our days together.
Chris will always be one of my closest friends, even to this day. He's the only boy I've ever felt completely comfortable around.
I often wonder where you are Chris, and if we'll ever see each other again. I'll always remember you, and I hope you're thinking the same thing.