Adam and I met when we were 15 in Mrs. Hoover's geometry class. We became fast friends and spent hours together driving around in my mother's Oldsmobile Achieva. He'd always egg me on and a game developed where whenever Sabotage by the Beastie Boys came on we had to get to wherever we were going before the song was over. We TP'd together, road scooters through piles of flaming leaves, shot each other with paint ball guns, played tackle football and soccer together, and learned to dance from our substantially more graceful dates at school dances together.
When I went to college Adam would come visit every month or so to hang out, party, and go to the movies. When I moved back to Rockford in 2008 we'd play ping-pong and go to the movies almost every weekend. We've been on four road trips together to the east and to the west. He's been a constant, warm, comforting, stalwart presence in my life for fourteen years. I was there shortly after his wonderful son Eli was born who is now approaching his third birthday.
Last summer when I was in rough shape Adam sat me down and gave me a talking to I very much needed. He told me he and Beanpole were worried about me, they felt bad they couldn't be there for me more, they loved me. He advised me to give anti-depressants a try, an avenue of assistance I had previously rejected, and I did. He reached out and it set me on the road to getting help and getting better.
I try to go back to Rockford once a month. To see Adam and his burgeoning family, to be a part of it's growth and to stick in his children's memories. Today Adam made breakfast and we watched Free Willy.
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