by Alex Porter ’13

On the last day of eighth grade, Robel Wondimu and I went home and turned on our Xboxes. Since we reconnected over the video game “Halo 3” in seventh grade after not being in classes together since elementary school, playing together and against each other was a normal ritual. But this afternoon, we tried something different. We loaded the level “Sandtrap,” got in the game’s Warthog truck and drove.

Sandtrap is a group of ancient buildings bordered by expansive desert. Mines destroy anyone who travels too far from the center, so we drove right on the cusp of safety. For hours, Robel and I talked about eighth grade and the last three years, excitement over getting a girl’s phone number for the first time, and the limitless futures ahead of us. Hours passed, breezily discussing the most and least meaningful things with fervor.

I met the Ethiopian lad 13 years ago on the first day of kindergarten, when we were the two kids crying in front of Olney Elementary. Since then, he has become my dearest friend and closest confidant. We still end up on our Xboxes every weekend, talking about the same things we have for years. But for all of the dumb conversations about girls, Pokemon or World Star Hip Hop, there are the deep discussions about philosophies or hopes for the future that unearth aspects of ourselves and make us even closer, even through the vehement differences that may accompany them.

In the coming weeks, I will leave for cadet basic training at the United States Military Academy. Robel starts at College Park soon after. As we begin our careers in the military and in medicine, hanging out every day will disappear. But I am confident that I will always remain best friends with my brother Robel, the best person I know. Thank you for writing your own column about me in journalism, and for the years of joy, laughter and friendship. Sandtrap will stay open forever.