Roots

Five families. Five lifestyles. Five stories. Countless memories made on the west side of Lake Forest. 

Standing high, atop a tower, commonly known as a playset, looking through the blue, rusty, telescope, I spotted 3 boys in their backyard. Hesitating at first, I eventually shouted “Hey!” No response. Should I have even said that? I glanced around, seeing if anyone was around me, so I wouldn’t disturb them by screaming. For the second time I shouted with everything I had inside of me, “HEY GUYS!” Three heads whipped around as if fireworks had been set off nearby. I finally got an answer from who looked like the oldest one, who said, “Hi.” Lame, but whatever. To my left, I heard my brothers approaching. They were curious as to why I was screaming and waving my hands frantically. My brothers noticed I was staring straight ahead, and eventually they turned their heads and their faces lit up with smiles, celebrating a new beginning. 

The Crawfords. That was the last name of the three boys. The six of us immediately became inseparable, experiencing our quiet, predictable neighborhood in exciting ways. We wouldn’t go more than 20 minutes without seeing each other. Whether we were playing basketball on the hot concrete, sledding through ice, snow, and sleet, or “booing” the neighbors’ houses during the spooky nights leading up to Halloween. It was apparent that these boys had become such an important part of my family’s story. There was one problem though: I was the only girl. Growing up with two older brothers, I was used to hanging around boys, but this was different. For some reason I felt like I didn’t belong. Still, I continued to spend every day with our gang. One day will my insecurities vanish? 

Each day I continued having the same thoughts: Why am I hanging out with all these boys? Do I belong here with them? Why are these negative thoughts racing through my mind? It wasn’t until we found the forest that I knew I was supposed to be with them. “The forest” became our home. It was directly in between The Fisher’s and The Crawford’s homes, and it was there that I became comfortable in the best of ways. 

The woods have always been a safe place for me. In nature, I am allowed to be myself and let go of all my worries. As I trudged through the woods between Cascade Ct. and Lawrence Ave., I would enter a whole other world. The trees branched out and created entry ways, almost like tunnels snaking underneath city streets. The sun poured down on our faces in the warm, sticky, summer air. I would count the minutes until the school bell would ring each day, waiting to be reunited in the forest, among the trees and moss. The woods became a place of comfort, but still there seemed to be something missing. 

One day, when the half dozen of us were in the forest, we heard voices from afar. Girl voices. I took a quick glance over my left shoulder to see who was there. Five girls were walking towards us, wide smiles on their faces. The original six looked at each other not sure of what to do, but we eventually began walking towards them. Four brunettes, one blonde, all of them were average height, but I didn’t recognize any of them. As we eventually got within a foot of each other I said, “Hi.” They responded with enthusiasm, “Hey!” Silence crept in, until my brother Jake finally asked, “What are your names?” One by one they started listing off who they were. “Bella, Kelly, Molly, Katie, Molly.” “Two Mollys? Did I hear them correctly? As soon as they finished, we introduced ourselves in return. “Wow, three Mollys,” exclaimed Bella. As a group, we made our way back into the forest, and the girls agreed that this setting was just perfect. This is where I belong.  

From that day on, we were glued together, especially as a group of girls. We ranged in ages from seven-12. It didn’t matter. Spending time with them gave me a natural high, as excitement rushed through my body, like a kid approaching a rollercoaster. I was free. There were certain challenges, of course. Molly and Katie’s parents were going through a divorce, some girls at school weren’t always kind, and little disagreements would happen here and there. We all shared this place where we belonged, though, and because of that, everything was okay. I was okay. Sitting atop the crisp, straw-like grass of summer, the rest of our situations did not seem too bad. As the wind blew the dandelions, we appreciated each moment spent in the forest. 

My everyday life became filled with “girl stuff.” Hours were spent creating goofy dances, making matching rainbow colored friendship bracelets, and gazing up at the stars, imagining what life was like up there. Laughter filled the night air. On the other side of the fence, the sound of soles of feet screeched on the driveway, like a jerking car abruptly halting, then restarting over and over again. I knew the game wouldn’t last for long. Soon, Peter would lead the pack of guys in search of fireflies, like we used to do. 

The next day, the six of us girls met up with my brothers and the Crawfords in the forest. This day the energy was different. Dark clouds swarmed the skies overhead, the trees hung low, creating a dark mood. “I’m moving”, whispered Bella.  My heart sank. My jaw dropped. I was speechless. My best friend is leaving me, I thought to myself. I glanced around and everyone was silent, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t until this moment that I realized how close we were, even if the boys and girls didn’t spend everyday together, we knew we were still family. 

Two years with Bella wasn’t enough. Our friendship was much different than the others. We knew everything about each other; like sisters. We took lengthy bike rides throughout our winding neighborhood streets, encountering young families on their daily walks. We set up what seemed to be hundreds of lemonade stands, barely making a profit. Pulling all nighters at each other's homes was our go to activity. We spent hours imagining our futures. It was decided that we would raise our families next door to each other. We were inseparable. Hearing the news from Bella, my heart broke. I felt I was losing a piece of myself. Our friendship was irreplaceable, and I knew the memories between us would live forever. However, I would’ve never thought a friendship could be broken due to thousands of miles between us. While we never spoke again, our time spent together would never be forgotten. 

Growing up without a sister left a void. I had a wonderful family with two older brothers, two parents happily married, and a loving dog, but there had always been something missing. As I began to spend day after day with the girls, this empty space began to disappear. These relationships helped me relate. I became more extroverted, comfortable, and understanding. Would all of this be stripped away when Bella leaves? Would our group continue our adventures? Would the feeling of happiness remain? Bella was the one person in my life that I could be myself with. No one could make me smile or laugh like her. I wish this nightmare would be over. 

After days of tears, tight hugs, and reminiscing, we began to move through life without Bella. That summer the forest brought us comfort like it had never had before. We carried on our traditions, continuing to make unforgettable memories. Eventually, history repeated itself. This time it was my turn to move on. Our last moments were spent in the forest, with the original six, and I was at peace. The trees overhead were silent, the sky was sleeping with stars shooting across. Everything was quiet. The forest knew we wouldn’t return soon. 

Looking back on those elementary years, what ifs still run through my mind: what if I never found the forest? What if I never met the five girls? What if I never realized I belonged? How could an exposed outdoor area make me feel so safe?  These thoughts clog my mind when I look back on my childhood. It’s shocking to think that the simple act of looking through the old, dingy telescope had brought me a sense of belonging.