And it Rained


English IV-period 3


21 August 2001


It was my day to paint. Every day at playtime, someone would get to paint. Given the fact that there were about thirty kids in my preschool, we only got to paint about one day every six weeks. This day was my turn. I was only five years old, but I knew what I wanted to be. I was going to be an artist. So, naturally, I was very excited. Of course, naturally, it would start to rain. So I walked, dejectedly, back inside, washed up, and then went to join the others. Little did I know, something was about to happen that would affect the rest of my life.


As soon as I entered the room, Miss Jane said, ďKela, why donít you pick someone to help you finish your painting?Ē


Excellent! Not only do I get to finish my painting, but I get to hang out with someone at the same time! I was about to pick one of my friends. Iím sure Summer, Chloe, or Laura would have loved to help me. My eyes, however, fell on the new girl. Sheís the one, I decided. ďHeather.Ē Her eyes lit up. Looking back, Iím not sure if her eyes lit up because someone had chosen her or if it was just because she was going to get to paint. Not that it mattered. Painting was the best thing in the universe, next to G-d.


So we walked back to the easel, pulled the paints out, and started in on our masterpiece. The only thing I remember about the painting was that there was a large brownish purple blob on the left center. The painting wasnít the important part. Somewhere, somehow that day between the clouds, the birds, the grass, and the purple blobs, I made a new best friend. I walked out of school that day with a play date already arranged.


At the end of that year, I left for elementary school and Heather still had one more year to go. Even if she hadnít we still would be going to different elementary schools. We knew that we wouldnít be going to the same school again until my junior year in high school. We also knew that we couldnít let that come between us. We were best friends, and best friends could stick together no matter what. We grew up. That wouldnít have been a problem, except that we grew up differently. I knew that we were changing. I knew that we were moving apart. Still, I knew that she was my best friend and that was all that counted. I sometimes think that if we had been at the same school, we would have lost our friendship years ago.


Luckily, we didnít lose anything. The first day of my junior year arrived and I couldnít wait to see Heather, in my school, for the first time in ten years. We understood that we have two different groups of friends, but there would always be us. Friends forever.


I learned something from my friendship with Heather that I wish everyone in the world could know. Friendship doesnít mean being the same person. Friendship doesnít even mean liking the same things. Friendship is knowing who you are, knowing who they are, and being perfectly comfortable together. I learned that it is possible to like someone without having anything in common with him or her. I wish the Israelis and Palestinians could learn that. I wish whites and blacks would understand it. I wish the capitalists and socialists will accept that. Iíve learned to like everybody. I like liking everybody. Itís amazing the things you can learn from someone completely different from you. Iím ready to learn more.