Ah... friendship. You've been the one kind of ship at sea whether in fair or stormy weather. The destroyer that took me into pitched battle and brought me out again, the luxury cruise liner that ushered me to sights unseen, Old Ironsides that doesn't sail much anymore but was there when I needed it, and even the titanic, sinking when I needed it the most. But ship metaphors aside, friendship, you've come in all shapes and sizes, each of you memorable in your own way.

The first time you came around I didn't know who you were really, but you seemed nice, and our parents seemed to want me to learn more about you. As a kid I didn't really have any idea what knowing you meant, and I wouldn't find out for a long time. Thinking on it now, the first time you showed up meant more now than it did then. For one thing, you came in such a strange package--one of the few ones like it in my life--white skin to contrast my dark, and you were much older too. Most important of all, you showed me what to expect each time you would show up.

When you came again you were much different. I mean really different. Your hair was long and dark, your eyes were shaped like a cat's and you were skinny. We didn't have nearly as much in common this time as we did last time--not even both being boys. You didn't like me nearly as much as you liked me before; in fact I'm pretty sure you might have been annoyed by me. But that didn't stop me from liking you--a lot. I couldn't figure out why I liked you as much as I did, and in my confusion and desire for your attention I teased you about how skinny you were. Sorry.

You were much easier to be with the third time. You were my age, in my classes, and we had everything in common. Because of this we spent the better part of eight years as more than I imagined you could allow us to be--brothers. But then you started to change: you were less interested in being around and more interested in chasing girls. I wasn't ready to do that yet so I gravitated away from you.

You stayed away for a long time, or rather I kept you away. Every time you tried to come around in a new package you just didn't do it for me. I realized I wanted you to be a particular way when you came around, but you just wouldn't show up the way I wanted you to. And then you did.

The strangest thing about you this time around, other than your penchant for goofiness and jokes, is your honesty. It's this quality that keeps you around for nearly two decades, acting again as a brother, and it's this that causes you to leave quite abruptly. You never did tell me why, and I've not yet come to terms with it, but it can't be helped. I appreciate you sticking around for as long as you did.

You're around now, and I'm sure you'll be around for many years to come. You'll keep doing that changing thing you do, and I'll keep making sure you're not too strange when you do it. I hope you keep up the good work you do, too, because I couldn't imagine you not being around.