I was eight years old when my family moved to Anderson, Illinois. My father transferred to a different job and my mother had agreed that we needed a fresh start. We moved into a big two story white house. My parents always said that they wanted to give me brothers and sisters, so they wanted a house that had plenty of room.
Timmy was the same age as me and lived across the street. He saw us moving in and came to say hello. He said that he usually didn’t play with girls, but his best friend had moved away and he didn’t have anyone to play with. We became good friends and he was my constant companion through the summer.
Timmy had a secret in the cemetery, just down the street. I was creeped out at first, but he reassured me that everything would be alright. The hideout turned out to be a mausoleum. It was dusty and full of cobwebs, but no one bothered us there. He said that he hung out there often and liked to go there to get away from his mom. Timmy didn’t like for me to go to his house, he said that his mom wasn’t very nice and didn’t want him to have any friends.
We spent the summer swimming, watching movies, and just hanging out. My parents always acted strange whenever Timmy was around. I don’t think they liked the idea of their daughter playing with a boy. My parents were weird that way. Sometimes, my mom would make chocolate chip cookies for me to share with Timmy. He loved cookies, and chocolate chip was his favorite. He said that his mom used to make them for him, but she was depressed and never made them anymore.
I asked him why his mom was depressed, he told me that one day his father took him and left his mother. His father brought him back a few days later, but then his father left again, never to return. Since that time, his mother had been very sad and lonely. I felt sorry for Timmy. His mom couldn’t afford to do much for him. He wore ragged clothes and hardly ever combed his hair. But he was a good friend and listened to me when I needed to talk.
By the end of the summer, my father had been transferred to a new job. They told me that they had sold the house and that we were moving to a different town. I was very sad, but I was also used to moving a lot. I wanted to say good bye to Timmy, so I went across the street and knocked on the door. I knocked on the door and was soon met by an elderly woman. She reminded me a lot of my grandmother. I asked if I could talk to Timmy and explained to her that I was going to be moving and wanted to say good bye. A sad expression came over her wrinkled face and she asked me to come in.
I sat down on her couch and looked at all of the pictures that she had hanging on her walls. She sat down next to me and explained that she was Timmy’s mother, but Timmy had been dead for over 30 years. She went on to tell me that Timmy was with his father and they had been involved in a terrible car accident that had killed them both. I listened to Timmy’s mother tell me stories of how good of a boy he was. I was sad at how much she missed him after all these years.
I left her house feeling empty and confused. I asked my mother about Timmy when we were leaving our old house. She smiled at me and told me that I would find a real friend in the next town, and that I would no longer need an imaginary friend. I looked back at Timmy’s house when we were driving away. I could see Timmy in his window smiling and waving at me.