Friendship Beads

We were sisters before we became cousins. 

My lifetime could be spent counting summers 

by the beads of the bracelets we made and

by the smell of charcoal and BBQ in your two-storey home in Baulkham Hills. 

Do you know I still drive past sometimes? 

Emptiness chokes my heart when I hear the echoes of our laughter 

still ringing in the halls.

You were the first person I had a sleepover with. 

I remember the night I begged my mum, 

I begged and begged until there was nothing I was more sure of in my life, 

until I was probably blue in the face.

I could have wanted for nothing more than to spend time with you. 

But then time passed. 

It didn't trickle; it gushed out of an hourglass,

splintering the glass with its force. 

You moved all those years ago 

and our friendship bracelet broke, 

beads scattering across my bedroom floor.

I still find beads scattered in my house sometimes. 

I try and collect them, 

though now they feel like stones in my pocket. 

And I've seen you move on,

seen those same beads we built our friendship with 

passed around to new faces and friends.

I was probably just a passing friend to you, 

but my childhood was built on our girlhood. 

There may come a time when we don't see each for years,

decades, and then, a final time, 

without any of us knowing. 

The worst part is I expect our reunion

to be like making friendship bracelets in your backyard, 

all those years ago.