A Bittersweet Memory by Vishnu Varada

​I remember staring at my feet as my friend John and his family went up to cut the cake that we had gotten for them. My eyes dart out the window, as I try not to witness it.  I noticed a squirrel cross the street. I was as sad as Justin Bieber singing his song “Baby”. John and his family were moving to Arizona, and this would be the last time I would see him until he visit again. I clapped along with everyone else as I tried to look happy, but I felt numb with sadness. My other friends and I shared a look of sorrow before we went to grab some cake. We all ran upstairs to his room before the party was over. John would be leaving in 2 days to Arizona. We all played video games up in his room, as we talked about the latest sports, and who could beat whom in tennis. We all tried to look upbeat for John’s sake, but his dread and sorrow was apparent. We got bored and went outside to his basketball hoop. We played two n two just like old times. We joked around and taunted each other, with comments like “still stink at basketball”, and “I can go right around you.” As the party ended, one by one, people started to leave. “See you John, we’ll drop by before you leave.” “Sure, thanks for coming, guys.” My friends all said goodbye and left. Soon it was just me and him. My family was the last to leave since we lived next door.

I said a quick goodbye, and promised to return before he left. When I got home I flopped onto my bed, and thought about what to give John before he left. What would symbolize our friendship over the last 4 years? All the times that we went over to each other’s houses after school, or all those sleepovers that we had stayed up so late  that our parents would make go back to our own homes. Then a thought hit me, and I knew the perfect gift. I rummaged under my bed, and pulled it out. “Perfect”, I said to myself. It was a camping flashlight that John and I had chipped in together to buy. It had a compass, magnifying glass, knife, everything. I knew it would mean a lot to him.

Two days later, I ran over to his house, and went up to his room. Boxes were everywhere, and he was packing a few last things. He looked up and grinned. “Here, I got you something”, I said. I pulled out the flashlight. He took it into his hands, and examined it with care. He reached into a box, and pulled out something red. It was a Swiss Army knife that we had used when we had gone camping. It was a bittersweet memory, because he accidentally cut me on the hand with it, but I gutted my first fish with it. I smiled as I took the knife. He lightly punched me in the arm, as I put the knife in my pocket. I punched him back. We did our secret handshake that we made up a couple of years ago, and shook hands. We said goodbye for the last time, and I walked home with the knife bouncing around in my pocket. I didn’t want to witness it when he left. Half an hour later, I saw a car pull out. I waved to John out of my bedroom window, and he waved back. I felt something brush against my leg. My cat purred, and jumped onto my lap. I pet him for a few seconds, and I looked back out the window, to see an empty street. Before I turn around, I see a squirrel cross to the other side.