You were inseparable, attached at the hip for four years. Laboring through the hallowed halls of Pittsfield High School or The Wilkshire Academy or wherever you attended, you shared it all -- assemblies, homecomings, lab periods -- the whole enchilada. Friday and Saturday nights were assumed that it was your time to hang out and, whether it was going to the movies, searching desperately for that open house party or just driving around aimlessly, a good time was always had by all.
Then senior year arrived and everybody began to think about that next, inevitable scary step of applying to college. There were the high-flying joys of being accepted and the crushing anguish of the stinging, skinny letter of rejection, but the foundation of the friendship always stood strong. The shoulder was there to embrace or to cry on.
Graduation came as did the last summer before the great exodus to the promised land of higher education. Trying to cram all those final memories into those three sweaty months was definitely tough, but definitely manageable -- 4th of July at the beach, tail-gate parties before concerts, roadtrips to nowhere.
But then slowly but surely, one by one, each friend had to pack up and move out. Everybody knew that moment had to come. The moment where it was the night before somebody was about to leave and as he or she walked out the door to go home, it wasn't a garage door they were exiting from, but a door to the future; a magical portal that made everything different although everybody fought their damnedest to make everything stay the same. But it was a futile battle to wage, for time and fate will always be victorious over us no matter how valiant a fight we put up.
Addresses, phone numbers and e-mail addresses were exchanged so contact could remain, and in the beginning everybody was so good. For some, it felt as if during the first week of school more time was spent on the phone than in the library. (It probably seemed that way because it was that way). Soon enough, the joys of blitz were discovered and it was decided messages in the in-box would be more gratifying, so the computer became the communication drug of choice. But individual blitzing became tedious so the shift went to mass-mailings instead. And everything appeared to be cool between everybody. Well, sort of.
Break came, as did the nervous excitement of seeing all your friends again. Reliving the good times from the past while creating some new ones for the future were definitely on the December agenda, but all throughout those four weeks of vacation you noticed something was, well, a tad different about everybody. They liked different music; they wore different clothes; they used really weird slang (as if "sketchy" and "blitz" were staples of the English language!). You couldn't believe how much they changed while you remained the same. Confusion ran rampant in your mind and with all your might you were unable to sedate the chaos.
And then you came back to Dartmouth, eager to see how everybody's break was. Quickly getting back into the groove of Winter term, classes began and diligently you worked to erase and forget the woeful GPA from the Fall.
But along the way you seemed to erase and forget about your friends from home as well. Friends up here were no longer referred to as your "Dartmouth friends," they became your best friends. When you spoke to your parents they asked if you ever heard from Lauren or Matt anymore. You had no idea what was going on in their lives or where they wanted their lives to take them. You didn't know if they were still together with the significant other from home or if they were out on the dating circuit again. You knew nothing about the people with whom you shared so many good times with for so many years. But they didn't seem to be going out of there way to get in touch with you either. It has been so long you think a complete state of apathy has settled in on the "friendship." But you're wrong.
Then out of the blue one night late in the Winter term you get a craving to speak to an old buddy and so you make the call. Apologies are passed along at first for being so bad, but two hours and a fantastic conversation later you realize why the two of you were friends in the first place. You realize there is no need to let distance or an evolution of interests/personality to change anything because deep down you will always have what made you want to be friends in the first place. That transcendent power kicks in that allows all the boundaries and barriers to be destroyed and that allows for you friendship to continue to flourish. You hang up feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and just plain ol' happy. It feels good to know that they are still there for you and vice-versa. You wonder how the rest of the crew is doing as well. Hmmmm.
Excuse me, but I have some more phone calls to make.
