Roxanne K. Cottell

This is a picture of my best friend, Dora, and me, at her wedding. Dora and I go back, way back. I have known her since I was 5. We met in church. I remember that day like it happened yesterday. She was dressed in shiny black patent Mary Janes, a frilly red dress and her long hair was coiffed into ponytails that were shaped into those cool "boingy" kind that bounce when you pull on them, which I did. She slapped my hand away and snapped at me. "Don't touch my hair!" she said. I think I knew then that this girl was going to be my friend for a long, long time.

I had no idea that it would last as long as it has.

Dora is that friend that only lucky people have. I guess that I could be rich, or famous, or both, but if that meant that I would have to trade in my life with and memories of this girl, I would have to pass on it. There are few things in life that are precious, and one of those things is being blessed with a friend who is willing to hurt you now with the truth than have you make a fool of yourself later. This is Dora, and she is that friend.

Dora and I came from two very different places. My life was always tidy and suburban, but to me hers was ...well, it was what it was and that is all I am going to say about it. I will say that I always wondered how such a nice kid could live in a pit like South Los Angeles. And by pit, I don't mean like..yuck..only...I mean like snake pit. I remember always being afraid when I got there until I got inside Dora's house. I will not describe to you where she lived. I will just say that Dora made the best of it. Dora always makes the best of it.

We lived far apart. She lived in Los Angeles, and I lived in suburban Covina. My life seemed like a million miles from hers. I practically lived outside, playing in the yard or skating with my little friends, while Dora's only knowledge then, at least I assume, of what normal suburban life was like, was when she visited my house. We were, are the best of friends. She taught me the value of sacrifice, and I taught her how to be a kid. My parents adopted her as their other daughter, long before Napua was born. My kid brother always did and always will introduce her to others as his sister. She has called my dad "Daddy" since we were little girls, and my mom "Mama" for just as long. She calls my Aunties her aunties, and she has been to Hawai'i with us.Dora has spent several Christmases, Easters, a few New Years and every summer from the time we were 12 until...yeah, until. I taught her how to ride a bike. Her Hawai'ian name is "Anelalani." She eats all the same Hawai'ian things that I eat (EXCEPT poi or raw fish), and understands the words pau, kau kau, and hele mai. Not bad, huh?

Dora was a cheerleader in high school, and I was one of those girls who hated cheerleaders. She was in student government. She was on the honor roll. I was an artist, joined the dance club, smoked out at the bleachers with the "bad kids" everyday. We were totally different. She wore knee length skirts and I wore very ripped Levis. She wore those cute little white cheerleader tennies and I wore checkerboard slip-on Vans. She wore cashmere, and I was more apt to wear a dead cow on my back. We were a sight to see in pictures, but the thing that stayed the same was the smile. We were always smiling . My dad says it was because we were always up to something. Dora? Yeah, right...

Dora became a permanent part of our lives. I don't remember her never being my family. I don't remember never loving her, and I cannot imagine my life having been lived without her in it. She was so much a part of our family that my dad made an addition to my room, simply so that Dora could have a room to call hers. You know it's your room when there is a closet and it has sheets in it that are your favorite color. Dora's favorite color is lavender. And Dora knows that my favorite color is red.

She's married now, has two kids, a mortgage and a minivan. So now George and Zoe and baby Paloma are my family too.

This is Dora.

She is my very best friend.