❛ Take me back when our world
was one block wide ❜
- Mary's Song (Oh My My), Taylor Swift

If I try my hardest to recall my first memory, it includes Reese Wilkerson's big green eyes looking at mine with that faraway, starry gaze they always held.

Right before he punches me in the gut.

We were only 4. It was the first time I had felt true pain, and also the time I threw my first ever punch—right to his face.

Ever since I could comprehend people and patterns, all I knew was the Wilkerson family and their way of life.

I've lived in the town of Star City, California for as long as I can remember. My parents moved to a house in a suburb there when I was born as Tessa Smythe in 1987 and I haven't known another place since. Although, I can't imagine what my life would be like if the Wilkersons hadn't decided to move to the house right next door to ours. Since I was an infant, I could hear the sounds of yelling coming from the new neighbors. They had a five year old son and a one year old boy at the time, and somehow, that baby was more destructive than his older brother.

My parents were never close with the Wilkersons, always thought they were a bit too much for them—especially because of their crazy children. My mother and Lois Wilkerson did bond over having two kids the same age at one point, but that was about it. However, as soon as I could walk, they could not keep me away from the neighbors house. What can I say, it always sounded like fun over there!

Lois and Hal Wilkerson welcomed the little blonde girl they saw at their front door with open arms and I was almost immediately joining in on their two boys' shenanigans. I had my first friends at about two years old, their names were Francis and Reese.

When Lois gave birth on her front yard to another boy, I didn't quite expect I could get along with someone so well. Malcolm was only a year younger than me, so when I became friends with the other two boys, he was only a newborn. But as soon as he learnt to sit up, we were practically inseparable.

I spent the next ten or so years of my life constantly over at their house. I was there when another member of the family joined, Dewey.

My parents got a divorce when I was seven years old, and the Wilkerson household immediately became my home away from home—as close as our houses were. When my mother moved away and I was living alone with my busy father, Lois Wilkerson became my second mother, no matter how overbearing she was; no one showed as much care for me as she did.

And no matter how dysfunctional their family was, they were the ones that stuck with me just like family should. They were my first and only friends, no matter the countless times we argued or got in trouble together.

I remember the day I tried to climb the tree in their front yard and fell off, breaking my arm; and how Reese and Malcolm helped me up to tell their mother to go to the hospital. The frightened look on their faces, and apprehension of their mothers reaction at the fact that they let me break my arm. The throbbing pain in my bones was not exactly soothed by them pulling me by that arm or the frantic yelling around me. It's supposed to be an unpleasant memory, but somehow it isn't. The simple thought that they cared so much to do all that made it stick out to me as a nostalgic, happy one.

I also remember the day I walked to my first day of school with Reese and didn't have to worry about who to sit with, because one of my best friends was right there with me. Or the countless days my father was busy with work and didn't have time to sit for breakfast or dinner, but I had the Wilkerson family to eat with every single day. An empty seat for me at their table for whenever I decided to join them. Or the days they invited me with them on their family vacations, had me over for every Christmas, hosted my birthday parties, They might not be the perfect family, per se, but they were just right for me.

I think it's safe enough to say they're a big part of my life.

I've grown up a lot; I'm turning 14 this October, to be exact, and not much has changed. I'm going to be in high school later this year, but Reese is going to be joining me just like he did on our first day of Kindergarten.

It's a chilly May evening, and I'm sitting in my room, journal open on my desk. I push myself and my chair glides to the middle of the room with its wheels. I look at my guitar for a moment, considering practicing some new songs. But then I look out my window, over at the Wilkerson house. My room's window faces the boys' room. There used to be a fence there, but the boys broke it down a long time ago. So now, I can look right into their house. Their lights are off, hm. Considering the noises I can hear, they're probably just hanging out in the living room.

I look back and forth from my guitar and their house in debate. I pick the latter option, getting up from my chair and switching off the lights. I tell my dad who is sitting in the living room and watching TV that I'm going over to the Wilkerson's, and he just nods to acknowledge me. He returns the 'bye' I give him before I walk out the door, and into the Wilkersons.

I enter through the front door and walk to the living room. "Hey guys." I greet, but as soon as I step foot into the room, I see three of the boys fighting on the couch. Oh, well.

Dewey notices me, "Hey, Tess." He hands me a pool noodle, and I know exactly what to do with it. We let out dramatic battle cries as we hit the three boys with them.

"Boys!" Lois comes out of the yard yelling, "Go to your room!"

It's just another day.