Remembering

David, age 22

I’ll never forget the very first day I met him. We were just children then. He came to school in the middle of the year, having fled Poland and the Nazis with his father. Before they left for America, the Nazis murdered his mother. While he watched. So he wasn’t quite right when he got here. From the minute I saw him, I wanted to be his friend. And I just knew we would be. Eventually, we were best friends, to the exclusion of all others.