Sara Ann

It was a breezy fall day the day I met my best friend. I had just moved into a new house and my family was unpacking boxes into the garage. My neighbor and her daughter came over to bring us a house-warming gift of rice-crispy bars. She was dressed in a puffy blue jacket and was hiding shyly behind her mom. "Sara, come out and meet the new neighbors," her mom said to her.

She timidly stepped out from behind her mom, said hi, and our friendship blossomed. Sara was a beautiful person, inside and out. She had long brown hair with dark skin and dark eyes. She was nice and a lot of fun, despite being shy.

Her imagination was wild and full of a thousand colorful ideas. She read Harriet the Spy and came up with the idea to create our very own "Spy Club," where we would sit on the porch with binoculars and spy on our neighbors out in their yards. She created fairy tale lands in our back yard and a time-travel machine in our garage.

Her eyes would sparkle when a new idea popped into her head. She would excitedly call my sister and I, and ask us to come out and play. I cannot remember a single day of boredom when Sara was involved. There was always a game to play and always something new to do.

Even though we were the best of friends we also got into a million fights. We would start an argument over something petty, yell at each other and vow not to speak again. But every time, ten minutes later, there she would be on my porch, ringing the doorbell and asking me to come out and play.

Since the days of my childhood Sara and I have grown apart. But the days that we spent together as children are ones that I will never forget. She was my best friend and will always hold a spot in my heart.