Like most kids, we first met at the playground.

The way your mom tells the story, it was you who first initiated contact-that’s the way she says it too, like we were two different species about to have our first intergalactic encounter (who was the human, who was the alien- I always wondered).

You were the one to grab and drag me to the swingset, where we sat and swung, hand-in-hand. This moment, she swore, sharp and poignant, marked the beginning of our forever friendship.

She always got misty-eyed at this part, and here was where you’d roll your eyes, grab my hand and drag me off to someplace or other.

That was your favourite thing to do, hauling me this way and that. When things got out of control, I could always count on your hand gripping mine and pulling me, up up and out the deep end. This was my one constant, the one thing I could keep close because I knew that it would never change; you, holding me tethered and bringing me to safety.

Of course, things will always change. No matter how much you wish they wouldn’t.

-

When the news first came out that you were missing, I’d been sitting on that very swingset.