I would be surprised if it’s common to people my age, celebrating a best friendship that has lasted without interruption for ten heartfelt years.
My first weeks in highschool were difficult for me. Shortly before I had shattered a spine into three pieces, and in consequence I entered school walking around in an exoskeleton, limiting the movements of both legs and my back. In particular I remember a moment where part of the contraption locked itself, forcing my right leg to stay bent upright. It was a boy with dishevelled hair who came to my rescue, fighting with the suit until it let go of my leg and I could continue my stumbling pace.
Even back then, Elias was a head taller than I was, and as we rushed through puberty, although much about us would change, that fact would remain stable. The following year he became a regular at our home, dining with the family at least once a week, often more frequently, as I did not allow him to return home without sharing this bond. Always, Elias was eager to set and clean the table, to listen with full attention to whatever was discussed during the meal, and as time went on, he became a third child to my parents, and a brother to me.
We spent a week at the coast one summer, surfing in the cold North Sea, or trying to, on its small waves. Another time we camped some nights in the Ardennes with my father, making fire as the sun set. We would tell tales as the dinner sizzled in its pan. Especially dad would bring us to tears with his hilarious tales from youth. I remember, one night, as we prepared for bed, an enormous herd of wild boar moving into our campsite, their hundreds of eyes glistening in the darkness, their mean grumbling breaking the silence. Elias looked for the nearest tree to find safety, but they soon continued moving.
More recently, we travelled around Europe, trekking through the wild Caucasus in Georgia, where we spent nights without electricity as massive hailstones turned our wooden room into a drum and lightning brought the mountain valley to day for a second. Or an adventure on the Croatian coast, with its manifold islands and picturesque towns. One night after attending a local concert, we arrived at home late into the night. The next morning, I found Elias on the kitchen floor, arms spread, as if attempting to hug the tiles. In his explanation, he had woken up hot and sweating, and attempting to cool off, he had first climbed the neighbours fence, to go for a swim in their pool. Next he had dozed into a deep slumber on the cool kitchen tiles, where I found him the next morning.
These days, when Elias visits for a barbecue or evening telling stories by the campfire, he is sure to bring some alcohol free drinks for my father, in a sense his father now too. They hug like old sailors do, perhaps because both spent over a decade in a swimming club. He explains his ambition for the future to all of us, and if anyone needs help, he is always eager to display his readiness. There are not many like him.
