I stood there, dwindling around while holding my sled through a thick, oversized glove. It was a brisk snowfall; one of the last heavy ones until spring. I was bundled up in my thick, winter coat, overalls, my too-little snow boots, and my Barbie toboggan. When I had called my neighbor, Lauren, her mother had answered and when I asked if she could play, she had replied with a short yet polite answer of “I’ll ask her.” I was banking on Lauren coming out. It wasn’t very often she told me she couldn’t play, especially when it snowed. I was eager to make my way outside and have the whole day ahead of me. When I stepped off the porch from the side of the house, the air hit me the way it does when you open the freezer door. The world was quiet and the snow was as pure as a virgin bride on her wedding day. I stood outside waiting for what seemed to me, at least 30 minutes. The earth has a way of spinning slower when you’re waiting on your best friend and there’s snow to be stomped around in. Finally, I heard her garage door open, and out she walked, sled in hand. I began to greet her happily; relieved she had finally arrived and was going to play with me. I stopped short, though, when I realized something was wrong. It was the way she barely made eye contact with me, very stubborn and secretive. Then I noticed the splotches on her face that were doused with redness. “Have you been crying?” “Yeah, me and Noel had a rough night…” A few thoughts ran through my head. The first, “rough night”. What the heck does “rough night” mean? Then, should I ask about it? Is this something I should leave alone? The last, do I WANT to know why it was a rough night? The worst came through my mind, and in the back of my head, I knew. I always knew. I opened my mouth to ask why, and no sooner had I got it out when she said matter-of-factly, “Mom and Dad are getting a divorce.” She tossed her sled on the ground, took a running start, and then down the hill she went. I was ten. Lauren was twelve. It was the first time we learned that we need to appreciate things while we have them.

   After Lauren told me about her parents, nothing changed dramatically for a while. It did affect our friendship, though. Things kept changing over time, and now almost eight years later, I don’t even talk to her, or see her. She lives in another state with her mom. Her dad got remarried, gained two step-daughters, has a grandson, and a granddaughter on the way. Lauren and Noel’s mom owns some apartments down south. Noel is working is Roanoke, Virginia doing something she loves. She lives with her boyfriend, and everyone knows they’re getting married soon. Lauren is going to nursing school-something no one would have thought she could have accomplished based on her rebellious teen years. As for me, things are only getting better by the day.
    August 1, 2014. My life is about to change forever. I am starting new rigorous college classes with people from other schools as a high school junior. I am sitting in a room full of people I have never met, other than my best friend, Aleisha. For at least two years, I had wanted nothing more than to go to a new place, with new faces, and a new game. I sat there, trying to control my shaking. I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t dare breathe. I always hated my high school. I wanted a bigger school. I wanted something more…diverse. I was only supposed to be at this foreign land for half a day, then I would return to my home school-safe and sound. It was funny the way it worked out. I had always wanted different. I got different. It terrified me. It was here that I realized I wasn’t as comfortable in new places as I once thought. After starting back at my home school later that August, I learned something new about myself. Change absolutely petrifies me. I remember walking through the hallway that smelled of freshly waxed floors, and whatever it is that makes it smell of the first day of school. I took in every breath I could muster. I felt safe. I don’t remember ever being so relieved to come back to a place that I once thought I could forget about so easily. It’s been one year, one month, and 14 days since I started this new change. I have never been so grateful for taking advantage of an opportunity like I did. It was well worth the risk. I was one year younger and naive to the real world. I had more time to sit and think about life. I could have gorged myself in the books I wanted to read. I thought being busy meant I had a sports practice after school and then a test to study for. That sounds like a cakewalk to me now. Looking back, I know everything has happened for the better. I thought I was losing my old life. Turns out I was just building a new one.
   

The most tragic thing that has ever happened to me is the biggest cliché of a seventeen year old girl. It happened gradually, but ended as a whirlwind of chaos and disorder. I had my heart broken. When I first met him, we became instant friends. What I thought was a mutual bond between two people, quickly cascaded into the beautiful mess we call love. It began like it ended: one of us always had the upper hand. I’m not sure why, but he always loved me while he was liking someone else. We were best friends, though. He was the doppelganger of my soul. Back then, I was selfish. I liked attention, and I was scared of anything real. Because of these flaws, I sent him falling face first off a cliff. Blind-folded. Without a parachute. He wouldn’t stop talking to me, though. No matter what, he treated me better than any human being my own age had ever even known how to. It was too little, too late when it finally happened. After a year of having my best friend attached at the hip via text message or phone call, I decided I’d like to start seeing him more in person. It was the moment I was told he was talking to another girl that I realized I had waited too long. Like most love stories, there were many many more agonizing details that I could go on and on about, but more than likely, you would rather read a Nora Roberts novel. In the end, I was left alone with nothing but the sound of my heartbeat thumping in my chest. Luckily, I had been brought to by finally catching my breath after having been punched right through my heart, soul, and mind.

One year, seven months, and fifteen days after the moment I found out about his “mistress”, did I finally learn it was time to stop being his “mistress”. If I had one regret, it would be that I didn’t give him a chance so long ago. It’s funny how what you think you want isn’t what you need, though. I couldn’t be more thankful that I didn’t give him a chance now.

There is always going to be something you wish you could live again. The truth is, though, no matter how many times I find myself saying “You never know what you have until it’s gone.”, I will always be thankful for the things that have come out of me thinking I missed something.

“New is always better.”

-Barney, How I Met Your Mother