6-29-2011

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. ~Emily Bronte

We were introduced at the unlikely age of 8, by a source even more unlikely, our brothers who shared a Kindergarten class.

I hated you at first, because you were mean like my older brother and you thought it was funny when you spilled your water all over me.

We rode bikes together. We crashed bikes together. We fixed bikes together.

You once threw my bike in the road because you were mad at me. In return for your actions, I punched you in the face so hard that I knocked your retainer straight out of your mouth.

We rode in the bed of your dad's pickup truck together.

We laughed together at your little brother who pronounced it PEEEcup.

I beat you up when you made fun of my little brother.

We went to the free family swim nights at the local pool cause neither of our families could afford to pay to go during the day.

You once hit me in the head with a baseball bat.

I stole your Will Clark autographed baseball. I still have it, just in case you were wondering.

I loved your grandma as my own, and I still give her huge hugs when I see her.

We raised a puppy together. Even though Spike lived at my house, he was "our" dog.

I am still convinced that we made up 90% of the "Yo Momma" jokes out there.

We played backyard baseball together at least one hundred thousand times. I am so sure of that number that I would put money on it.

I'm pretty sure you still owe me over $100 for a few games of "PIG" we bet on.

We used to build bike ramps in your back yard.

Together, we threw footballs through the spokes of our brothers bikes while they were riding, and then laughed uncontrollably as they tumbled off in a wrecked mess.

We wrote books about imaginary adventures running away from home in the alley with our dogs.

We walked miles to the mall in blistering heat.

We lived through our family and parent issues together. I'm still kind of amazed we survived.

You gave me my first ever Valentine's gift, and I was so embarrassed that I gave it back to you.

Only you and I know what's funny about that old lady in IHOP.

We built "forts" made of plywood and old dump truck tires in both your back yard and in mine.

Every time I hear the song "Sweet Home Alabama", or watch the movie, I think of you.

We fought and made up at least 10 times over the years.

We smoked Marlboro's together, but only I could buy them cause I looked older.

We made movies about tornadoes and a music video to "Gangsta's Paradise".

We jumped over Mrs. Davis' bushes till she chewed us out so bad she nearly had a heart attack.

We (pardon the terrible expression) nigger knocked on crazy old Mrs. Stone's door more times than I can count.

We raked our neighbors leaves for money.

We set...uh...things... on fire.

We ran from weeble wobbles who could jumps fences, and then blamed it all on Ryan Thomas when we got caught.

We had the MOC club.

We raced each other in our first cars until you nearly plummeted into the back of a freaking cop.

We fixed our cars together.

You always helped me rotate my tires.

We worked at Chick-fil-a together.

We spray painted graffiti all over the sheds in your back yard.

We went to Kreamie Kream with our families almost every single day.

Your mom took me and my brother in while my dad was in the hospital, and my mom took you and your brothers while your mom was in the hospital.

I always knew that the things your mom said about you, and to you, were wrong. You are better than she could have ever wished for and you must realize that.

You taught me what a hushpuppy was.

We spent countless hours doing nothing productive in Walmart.

You came to church with me all the time. I loved that.

We loved each other in every way possible.

We knew each other in ways that we didn't even know ourselves.

I bought you your first suit, you gave me my first kiss.

When your dad died, I felt like I had lost a father of my own, and I felt every moment of your pain. The $200 big red roses at the funeral were from me.

I always knew that you deserved more credit than you would ever give yourself.

I wish you could love yourself the way I loved you.

In the end, my life has changed a lot, and I have to move on.

So, I am saying goodbye. Not just for now, but goodbye.

I cannot afford to have you in my life any longer.

I cannot wait for you more than I wait on God.

I pray that all of His goodness finds you, and that you feel accepted by a loving and real Heavenly Father.

I pray that you are happy.

That is all I can do.

I am letting go.