Old Friends

I've moved a couple of times in my life. And the first thing I hated about moving was leaving the house. I grow extremely attached to the house. And then comes leaving the people. When we lived close to my cousins, I hated leaving the people more than the house, though I did love the house dearly. (All the trouble I take to make friends, and then we move!)
Of all the times we moved, that is the one time I remember and it was hard. I had about fifty million friends and three or four best friends, because I was just about the most popular person in the grade. You would think that with all these friends, and the amount of tears there were when we left, we would keep in touch. Nope. Never. Not once. Not to say that I tried.
After we moved to where we are now, one of my best friends in second grade, Elizabeth, moved. She wrote me a letter, but I never wrote back. I move on from friend to friend pretty fast. If someone doesn't bother to be there, I start again, making new friends until they move away.
A while ago, my mother told me that one of my very best friends from before we moved had moved away from her house. Now I can't even picture her any more. Because we don't keep in touch, I can imagine what they're doing, based on what I remember, which, sadly, is not much. Even with the power of imagination vested in me, I cannot see them any way besides the way they were when we left. Obviously, it's been six years, they'd have grown up, and if they were such brilliant friends of mine, I should know they're like. Even considering this, I think I prefer them as they were six years ago. I don't think that's a bad thing.

Quote for Some Day I Missed:

A friendship that can be ended didn't ever start.

-Mellin de Saint-Gelais, Oeuvres poétiques

(http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Friends#Old_friends)