My friend and I are 7 years old. We are at my house and we’re trying to make sense of a terrible fact. Her little brother rides his bike out of the driveway. He is hit by a garbage truck. One moment he is here. The next he is gone. Her house is full of family but is strangely empty too.  We never figure it out, but we try, together.  Through the years we write letters. Our families have been close since she moved to Oklahoma at age 5. Through moves and adolescence, our friendship ebbs and flows. It’s always there.  My other friend and I are 10 years old.…