During my childhood I was a happy, carefree little girl who loved her mother and her grandmother and her brother. I loved being with my family, but I also had a childhood friend whom I adored. She was about three years older than I was, but she always was nice to me. As a child I was not a late sleeper, so on weekends as soon as I was washed, dressed, and had breakfast, down our stairs I flew to knock on my friend's door. Her mother and she usually slept later than I did, but I was always welcome. We were friends until high school, when I was sent to Catholic school and my friend went to public school. Our friendship lasted about a year into high school; then we drifted apart. Looking back to that time, I can't believe I was so carefree and sure of my friend's acceptance of me and my idiosyncrasies. I was so secure in this friendship, so secure in thinking that my friendship was as important to her as hers was to me. She was my best friend.