Neither of us remember for sure how and when we first met, but it was certainly before either of us had even started school. The first memory I have of us together is of us in just our bathing trunks, sitting face to face, our little legs extended, the soles of our bare feet touching, in a patch of tall grass in an otherwise sandy grove of pine trees, at the corner of the Midway Road and the street my family lived on. Across the Midway from this little paradise of ours was his family’s small farm. I was probably all of three years old and he would have been four. Though neither of us can remember exactly what we were doing that day prior to this tableau of footsies in the grass, nor after, we both remember it as if it was yesterday. And we both remember it as a moment between two boys who were already the most intimate and eternal friends.