Shaken by a life-altering revelation

This rising seventh grader was hit with a proverbial gut punch which knocked his world completely off its axis just when he thought the stars were perfectly aligned.

It looks like we’re gonna have to get out the stationary again!

Those were the carefully chosen words spoken by Chris Honneffer when he broke the unfortunate news that his family would be moving to New Mexico prior to the beginning of the new school year.

The wind was blown right out of my sails.

We had been intimate friends for three glorious years.

After becoming bunkmates for church camp at Living Waters Campground in Cherry Tree, Pennsylvania as soon-to-be fourth graders, Chris and I became devoted pen pals long before my family moved to Ellwood City – the fair-skinned redhead’s hometown – where we became the best of friends; but now it would be incumbent upon us to select from a variety of writing paper to continue with our personal correspondence.

“I knew there was something on your mind,” I proclaimed wagging an index finger into the air while attempting to keep my emotions in check. “Ever since I came over yesterday afternoon to spend the night, I felt there was something bothering you; because you made a twisted facial expression every time I mentioned junior high school.”

Now it makes total sense!

“Timing is everything,” revealed the little sleepover host with a sideways glance as he explained his reason for delaying the inevitable. “Considering you’re a sentimental guy, I wasn’t quite sure how you would take the news about our move to the opposite end of the country; and I didn’t want you to have a total meltdown in front of my entire family.”

That’s like the pot calling the kettle black!

Let’s keep that cat in the bag.

“What did I just get done saying,” asked the concerned stripling with pursed lips prior to taking his napkin to dab at my tear-stained cheeks. “With all the fun and excitement on today’s itinerary, we definitely don’t have time to squeeze in a waterworks festival; so, you better get your butt in gear and turn that frown upside down.”

Besides, you need to put on your game face for a contentious game of pool.

Immediately after inhaling a flame-grilled cheeseburger and french fries at the luncheonette counter inside Pete’s General Store, this dynamic duo made a beeline for the recreation room on the other side of the old-fashioned mercantile as a couple of elderly gentlemen teased one another after finishing up a friendly round of solids and stripes.

I’m not a pool shark; but when it comes to billiards, you can call me JAWS!

Why don’t you just chalk up your cue stick; and we’ll see who sinks the eight ball.

“Game on, cupcake,” remarked the would-be needler-in-chief sporting a wide grin upon placing an arm around his favorite companion’s shoulder. “If you go ahead and rack up the billiard balls, I’ll get us a couple of cue sticks from off the wall mounted brackets; and then you can break the balls to begin this long-awaited ‘Battle of the Titans.’”

“Do you think I just fell off the turnip truck,” I inquired with a mischievous look when retrieving the numbered orbs from a centrally located holding compartment. “Since we’re in your neck of the woods, I’m willing to forego your most gracious offer by letting you have the first crack at it; and then I can swoop in and clean up the table in a single round.”

You’ve got yourself a deal, Mister Fancy-Pants!

Who was I kidding?

If we had been playing miniature golf, I may have had my opponent running scared by the ninth hole; but billiards was another ball of wax altogether.

Nevertheless, I had to shake the cobwebs from my head after pocketing three balls in a row toward the end of the high-spirited contest, thereby balancing things out with one ball apiece left on the table.

When my counterpart sank the last striped ball, I thought it was lights out for me; but then the eight ball miraculously bounced off the green felt fabric and landed on the hardwood floor before rolling into a corner.

Me thinks that’s the wrong corner pocket.

You did that on purpose.

Maybe I did; but then again, maybe I didn’t.

Once the laughing hyenas walked out the main entrance to the community gathering place still chatting about the suspiciously forfeited game, they hopped on the fire engine red three-wheeler which was parked on the side of the clapboard covered building prior to driving back to the two-story house at the corner of Brighton Road and Longvue Drive for a well-deserved dip in the swimming pool.

Shortly after the streetlights came on as the sun slowly did its disappearing act over the horizon at the end of another fun-filled day, Dad tooted the horn on the steering column of the family station wagon to let me know he was parked along the street patiently waiting to take me home; whereupon I walked out the front door with my overnight bag in hand and scampered down the steps.

However, Chris came running after me to say one last goodbye before I could make it to the end of the sidewalk.

Upon giving my best friend another great big bear hug, a wave of emotion swept over me like the rolling tide of the ocean.

It was very difficult to let go.

For a brief moment, I thought a crowbar might be necessary to pry you boys apart.

“I want to make each hug count,” I emphatically stated with watery eyes upon climbing into the automobile and strapping a seat belt around my waist. “Since the Honneffer’s will be moving to New Mexico next month, there are only a limited number of times left for me to demonstrate just how much I’m going to miss him.”

Your little buddy was torn up inside about telling you, but I’m glad he had the courage to finally rip off the band-aid.

Tears streamed down my face as we pulled away from the curb.