I’m the oldest. I’m the oldest sibling, the oldest cousin, the oldest on both sides of the family. My best friend and next door neighbor, who lived a full one-hundred-and-three-point-five feet from my doorstep, was the youngest. I was the oldest of three, she the youngest of three. Anytime I ventured the one-hundred-and-three-point-five-feet, across the street, making sure to look both ways, and onto her doorstep, I knew that there would be big kids inside. I looked up to them; I thought they were the coolest. Laura’s older sisters were intimidating, even more so where her sisters had friends. They would turn me into a shy, giggling mess in about two seconds flat.
It was New Year’s. I was allowed to stay all the way up to midnight with my best friend. This is possibly one of the largest steps into the realm of being a big kid. Granted I was only one-hundred-and-three-point-five-feet from my doorstep, but I might as well have been away at college I felt so grown up.
“Which ones did you like best?” Laura’s mom, driving us home from the fireworks in the dark. The four of us were all piled into their minivan.
“I like the huge ones that fizzle.” said Laura who was sitting next to me. “Maddie, you like the weeping willow ones right?”
“Yeah! Those are my favorite.”
“Those are my favorite too!” I said, gladly agreeing with Maddie, Laura’s older sister.
“Well, I like the loud ones.” Leah stated. Her opinion came from shotgun, the prime firework watching seat, which she had promptly claimed for herself.
I wish I had said the loud ones were my favorite, I thought. Leah was my idol. She was gorgeous and funny and in my opinion always did everything right. She and Maddie were best friends, like Laura and I. Leah and Maddie were two years ahead of us in school, which completely labeled them as the ‘big kids’. I was always impressed that Laura showed no fear around them. I could barely talk around them without feeling incompetent or giggle uncontrollably and making an utter fool of myself.
“I got you guys some noise makers and confetti for when the ball drops. I’m headed to bed.” Eve, Laura’s mom, told us. She handed Maddie the bag of goodies. Eve was one of my mom’s only friends. They both divorced their husbands within a year of each other leaving them both single mothers and Laura and I with split homes. The years that they were both single, before Eve remarried, we would spend the long summer nights together in each other’s front lawns; Eve and my mother sipping wine and watching their children safari from the front porches.
Both of them no longer having a partner to raise their children with, they would consult each other on any maternal dilemma. Any event that happened that could effect on their children they would consult on, including when Leah tried to overdose. My mom sat me down after this to talk to me about it. From Leah’s appearance and actions I would have never guessed she was feeling that way. My mom told me to not change how I acted around Leah, but to always keep it in the back of my mind. I always did.
The night wore on. Ten o’clock came and went, then eleven. I was up way past my bedtime, and I was with the big kids. Life was good. The four of us watched a movie, all snuggled onto the couch. We fought over the warm, red, fuzzy blanket because it was the coziest. Leah finally decided that if we bunched really close we could all share. Practically piled on top of one another, we sat. Blanket upon blanket piled on top of the red fuzzy one. Only our hands and heads poked out of the covers, just enough to reach the bowls of pretzels and chips Eve had left for us. Not to mention our blue plastic champagne glasses filled with sparkling apple juice- it was a middle school party done justice.

“Maddie, hurry up and change the channel. We’re going to miss the ball dropping!” Laura yelled at her sister. It took a few minutes to find the right channel. On our little TV set, we saw all the people in Times Square bathed in the bright lights of the jumbotrons. All those people were gathered out in the cold holding signs and full of excitement. We were just as happy being at home and warm. We all grabbed our noise makers, and settled in for the countdown.

“8…7…6…5…” We all chanted together, I loving the feeling of inclusion amongst us, “…3…2…1!” We blew and we blew and created quite a racket with those cardboard noise makers.
“I feel light headed!” I laughed, finally stopping. “Oh no! The first thing I said this year was ‘I feel light headed!” I realized, making myself laugh even more. Leah burst into fits of giggles at this. She thinks I’m funny! I thought, making me realize that this was the best New Year’s yet.
Fast-forward one year. A school year had come and gone. A summer full of adventures came and went. A summer filled with Laura and me lying out in her front yard, the full one-hundred-and-three-point-five feet from my house, Maddie and Leah by our sides. They did it to get tan; we did it to be with them. A winter passed that was full of snow storms, snow forts, sledding and making vanilla ice-cream out of the new fallen snow. A spring arrived and left that resulted in a mall trip; Eve brought the four of us to go Semi dress shopping; the big middle school dance. Maddie and Leah snuck off to buy Maddie a dress Eve had said no to, but they let me and Laura in on the secret once the deed was done. It was a very pretty, very short, purple dress. Maddie convinced her mom to let her wear it.

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All of a sudden Laura and I were ruling the school. We were the big bad eighth graders, or maybe the big nice eighth graders. I didn’t feel like I was the old, intimidating person I always viewed Maddie and Leah as. The school year had been going great, our last hurrah as Dummerstonions.
It was a cold, dreary, January night. I was doing my homework, stretched out on my living room floor, my ratios and proportions homework in front of me, my cell phone off to the side. My phone buzzed. I reached over to grab it, glad for the distraction. The text was from Laura, who at that moment was only one-hundred-and-three-point-five feet from me.
Leah died.
I stared at the screen. It wasn’t processing. How? I was shocked. I knew how… the memory of the long ago conversation with my mother resurfaced. I didn’t want to believe it.
What? How? I texted back. Although I knew inside what had happened.
She committed suicide. She’s gone.
My mom came down the stairs.

“Maggie, Eve just called…did you hear?” she said. Her forehead was taught and her brown eyes filled with worry. Even though Eve had remarried, she my mom had stayed in touch, still having the bond of their single mother years. They still called one another when it really mattered.

“Laura just texted me.”

“Will you be okay?”

“Yeah Mom, I’ll be fine; I’m just worried about Laura and Maddy.”
The next day at school was rough. I had personally nominated myself to be the strong one. A lifetime of being the oldest made this responsibility seem natural to me. I knew that there had been people closer to Leah than I; I wanted to be there for them.
I sat down at my hard desk seat. Everyone was very quiet; the room was full of red eyes. The intercom clicked on.
“As most of you know we had a former student pass away last night. There are grief counselors for any student or staff who would like to talk to someone, just come down to the counseling office.”
My teacher started sobbing. We didn’t do much in school that day.
Being the strong one all day at school was exhausting. I went to bed early and broke down in tears. I was curled up in my bed, curled up in fetal position, sobbing. I had always looked up to Leah, I had always hoped to achieve the status I gave her for myself. I sniffled and grabbed a tissue. Curled up in my little ball I had been thinking about my life problems and how utterly insignificant they had become.
Why be unhappy? I thought; if you only get one lifetime to live you have got to find joy in the little things. The smell of bathing suits coming out of storage, a penny on the ground, a smile in the hallway, the way you have to tilt you head while eating a taco, all the little things that put a smile on your face.
Laura’s whole family suffered, but through sleepovers and long summer nights, everyone slowly recovered. Maddie decided that her first child would be named Leah. Everyone was recovering, and remembering the best moments. To this day Leah’s face splatters family photos in Laura’s home, the fond memories captured forever.
Never having encountered death before; I learned that it’s part of life. With this knowledge I look at life differently. Life, in the scheme of things, is a fleeting moment, a blip upon the earth’s surface. Wiping my tears away I knew how lucky I was. I have many happy memories of Leah, the happiest ones are the most important ones. Having a life full of happy memories shared with people you love is worth more than anything: Live Happy.