When I was 5 years old, my best friend lived next door. We lived in the country so friends were few and far between, as they say. I spent quite a bit of time alone, not wanting to be too much of a burden to my friend, but once in a while I would go next door and he would be in the back of his house taking care of something important I’m sure. I really had a great time with my friend, when he could play. Sometimes I’d be gone for hours and my mom would wonder where I was. She would eventually find me…out in the field, plowing with my best friend. In case you couldn’t tell by now, my best friend wasn’t another 5 year old. It was Mr. Chard, a grandpa type who, like I said lived next door to me. I used to stand on the fence and say, “Mr. Chard, can you play?“ Even now thinking about him I miss him and his sweet and gentle way. This was many years ago; you could trust your 5 year old daughter with a man like Mr. Chard. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I remember he never had time to “play”, but I remember riding the tractor next to him and plowing the fields for hours. It’s too bad that the world has changed. I would have never had a best friend when I was five if I didn’t have Mr. Chard. He has been gone for years, but this little girl will never forget his kindness and love.