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When I saw her name pop up in my Inbox one afternoon, I froze. There was my past, staring right at me. After a few years of absence, Kendra, my childhood best friend, was back in my life with the click of a mouse.

It was unexpected, and I suppose that's why it brought my day to a halt. It seems whenever someone from my past reemerges, it gives me a jolt.

The last time we spoke was maybe two years ago, when we found each other on MySpace. Her photo album revealed the last few years of her life that I missed: A marriage on a tropical island, a trip to Vegas with the girls, water skiing at the lake where we spent so many of our summers. We exchanged a few lengthy e-mails, catching each other up on our lives, and that's as far as it went.

Since we graduated high school, Kendra and I have drifted in and out of each other's lives. We both went off to separate colleges and slowly lost touch, eventually drifting apart.

After college, we reconnected briefly with a two-hour phone call, filling each other in on our lives. It's been years now since we've had one of those conversations. But it seems no matter how much time passes between us, we always manage to come back together, if only for a little while. Here she was again on my computer screen, reaching out.

Despite where our lives have led us or the bumps we have hit on our sometimes rocky road of friendship, I still miss her. Childhood best friends share a bond that's different from your other friends from the past. It's more than just a friendship, they're practically family. And in our case, Kendra was like a little sister to me. Even though we were the same age, I always felt an instinct to protect her.

As I read her e-mail, I could hear her familiar voice. Through our brief e-mail exchanges, I started to feel like we were kids again, sitting on the floor in her basement, drinking cans of Pepsi and eating packs of SweeTarts until our stomachs hurt. When we were together, we would fall into fits of laughter, clutching our stomachs from laughing so hard and stay up late cuddled on the couch together watching scary movies (to this day, I still can't watch Stephen King's "It"). We were the kinds of friends who could be completely stupid in front of each other and it wouldn't matter.

Growing up, we were two peas in a pod, as my mother always said. And yet we couldn't have been more different. She liked Journey, I liked Madonna. She dressed up as scary monsters every Halloween, while I was the '50s girl in the poodle skirt. She was the tomboy, I was the girlie girl. But for some reason, we clicked. We did pretty much everything together. We stood nervously next to our dates at our first high school dance, cheered each other at track meets, and visited potential colleges together.

There were the sentimental moments too: break-ups with boys who broke our hearts, late-night conversations over bowls of ice cream, consoling each other over the loss of a pet.

We were the kind of best friends who were equally silly and got in trouble for it all the time at school. In class, we'd spontaneously start laughing and the teacher would have to separate us, placing us on opposite sides of the room, which only made us laugh even more.

Whenever Kendra and I reconnect, so many good memories come to mind. And every time, it makes me regret a little more the distance we allow to creep up between us.

We've exchanged phone numbers through e-mail, hoping that we will carve out the time to call ---- e-mail just can't replace the sound of a familiar voice.

And even though these two peas in a pod have gone on with their lives, essentially without the other, sometimes all it takes is something as simple as an e-mail or a phone call to remind you of what you've been missing. And what you still have.

Contact Carla Kucinski Seward at 373-7319 or carla@gotriad.com.