Friendship is a strange thing.
We find ourselves telling each other the deepest details of
our lives ...
things we don't even share with the families who raised us.
But what is a friend? A confidant? A shoulder to cry on? An
ear to listen?
A heart to feel?
A friend is all these...and more.
No matter where we met, no matter how long we've been together
... I call you friend.
A word so small, yet so large in feeling, a word filled with
motion,a word overflowing with love.
Truly great things come in small packages.
Once the package of friendship has been opened, it can never
be closed. It is a constant book always waiting... waiting to be
read...and enjoyed. 
We may have our disagreements... we may have our
disappointments...
we may argue ... we may concern one another ....
friendship is a unique bond that lasts through all
tribulations.
A part of each of us goes into our friendships ... our humor
... our experiences ...our tears.
Friendships are foundations ... necessary for life ... and
love.
Friends ... you and me ... you brought another friend and then
we were three ... we started our group ...
our circle of friends ... there is no  beginning ... there is no end!

One question that was asked of me after school one day has
lingered in my mind since the day it slipped out of the lips of a young boy.
As a joke two kids asked if I had a disease or something. This shouldn't
have been a problem, but the truth was I did. 

I contracted a debilitating disease and the medication caused
me to gain an excessive amount of weight. When I was put on these steroids
the doctors told me about each of the side effects but they never
told me I'd lose every friend I ever had. 

Not many people remember me in the sixth grade. I was the girl
who sat in the back of the room. Nobody realized I was there, not even the
teachers. I would walk in and sit down never talking to anybody. I didn't
have any real friends.

It was the lowest point of my life! I'm glad nobody remembers
who I was. The months I spent in the hospital helped people forget. The
hospital was great. Nobody there criticized me for how I looked. I wasn't
laughed at when I couldn't do something normal kids could do. The hospital
had become my escape.

Going back to school seemed like torture. Kids in the junior
high were so cruel. There wasn't a day  when someone didn't ask if I had
eaten an elephant or if I were the new version of the Goodyear blimp. 

Kids avoided eye contact and would move to opposite ends of the
hall. Behind my back they called me cabbage patch girl. They never
thought I knew. They didn't care if I stayed up all night crying. They
never knew how bad it hurt. There were times when I would just sit and
ponder my existence and question what it would be like for everybody with
out me here. 

So many things could have been done to prevent these feelings
of despair. A simple "hi" without a smirk, a true smile; not a half-hearted
attempt. 

You see, this isn't just another story to me, it is me. Now I
can look back on this and say it was all for the better; but at the time
I was a child who felt lonely and forgotten.

One thing I learned is that each person, no matter what others
may think, has feelings. A simple, yet most appreciated thing doesn't have
to be big, it can take as little as a second but may change the day for a
lot of people.

All it takes is a note saying, "you're awesome" or "I
appreciate you." Try handing a note like that to anybody. Not only do they feel
happier but you will be too.

There are too many youth who don't know what they're worth.
They feel lost and forgotten just like I did.
You could look through your yearbook and find those people,
most of you could probably think of one now. These people are in your life
today, but the average person chooses to do nothing about it. 

But what type of person are you? Are you the one who goes out
of your way to avoid someone, or do you make it a point to say hi? What you
do in a moment's time, can have a tremendous effect on a person for the
rest of their life. And as someone once said,"We are here to make
people feel like a million bucks, not two cents."

    In 1949, school let out for Christmas and Pedro and Emmett rode the school bus home,
    talking and thinking about Santa Claus. Emmett said that he had tried to be good and
    wanted a BB gun. Pedro had gotten old enough and big enough and bright enough to
    know that if Santa Claus was going to bring him his favorite toys, he needed to pray
    real loud so Mama, Daddy and Grandmama could hear him. He also knew that it
    helped to turn down the pages in the Sears & Roebuck catalog in the outhouse. But
    deep down, Pedro wanted to believe in Santa Claus just like his younger friend,
    Emmett. 

    Christmas morning arrived and there it was, the shiny brand new bicycle just like
    Pedro wanted. Also there was some fruit and a brand new Little Red Ryder BB gun.
    Pedro couldn’t wait to show Emmett and headed to Emmett’s house. Upon arrival,
    Emmett looked over at Pedro, barely able to speak, and said, "Pedro, Santa Claus
    didn’t come. Either I’ve been bad, or he ran out of toys." Pedro could see the hurt in
    Emmett’s eyes and hear the disappointment in Emmett’s voice. Pedro, without
    thinking, replied, "Emmett, Santa did come. He thought you were spending the night
    with me, and he left your BB gun at my house. I was a-bringin’ it to you." 

    Emmett grinned like a baked opossum and was excited as a bug in a tater patch.
    Emmett hugged Pedro, and Pedro hugged back. At nine years old, at that moment,
    Pedro once again learned there really is a Santa Claus. 

    On the way home on his new bike without his BB gun, Pedro kept thinking, "Please
    Mama, don’t be mad," and she wasn’t.