"This has been fun," she says.
How can you describe what it feels like to love some one who loves you not?
"A wild ride," she smiles.
How can you describe what it's like to feel something so strong for someone who doesn't hold you dear?
"Goodbye, pal."
The window rolls up, and I am left staring at my expression. I had told myself that I would be polite, composed, but the reflection appeared to show more than I liked. My musings are cut when the car begins to move. I watch my friend drive away, I watch the dust roll up from the tires. I can see the large dent on the left side of the bumper. I grit my teeth so hard they creak. I remember when her car had gotten that dent, we'd both been in the front seat, laughing and screaming as the person behind us drove up a bit too close.
How can you describe what's like to feel a chapter in your life close without even knowing it was going to end?
I've known Erica Thomas since elementary school. I've always known her. She was my best friend, we were a team. We were buddies. We loved each other.
I loved Erica. She was one of the greatest friends I ever had. She was my friend when no one else was.
"This has been fun," she said, "A wild ride."
Moving away?
"Goodbye, pal."
She announced she was moving not one week ago, after she'd made the arrangements.
"You're moving?" I asked her, my voice cracking against my will.
"I am," she said, her lips, I remember, a thin line, "I'm moving to Washington."
"DC?"
"State."
Why. Why. It was the only question I had. We'd certainly grown apart as we've grown up. For a while we remained friends, but, for the past year, at least, it has been as though, while she grew up and became a woman, I stayed but a child.
But moving? So suddenly? Why?
"I've got family up there," she explained, refusing to look at me, "I hate living here. If I move, I can be with the people I love, and be a happier person."
"I--I see," I said. She didn't tell me she was moving. I found out after overhearing a teacher.
"She's not going to be in this class anymore."
"I hate living here," she said, "If I move, I can be with the people I love, and be a happier person."
Was she not happy? I didn't know. I never knew. She never told me. Perhaps I should have known?
"Well," I told her, "I hope you like it there."
"Me too," she nodded.
Then she went away.
A week later, I saw her car moving up her driveway, the back loaded with boxes of her stuff. I walked over to her, my hands shoved deep in my pockets. The car slowed to a stop, and as I approached, the window rolled down.
"Hey!" she said to me, a smile painted on her face.
"Hello," I replied, giving her car a once over, "You....you leaving, now?"
"Sure am!" she said, tossing her hair away from her face, "Got a long drive ahead of me, I wanted to get an early start."
"That's sensible," I nodded.
An awkward silence filled the air as each of us waited for the other to say something.
"Oh!" she said suddenly, "I've got something for you!"
Something like hope coursed through me.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!" she said, "Look in the back seat, towards you, there's a box with your name on it."
I hesitated before pulling open the car door. There was indeed, a small box with my name written on it. Pulling it out, I asked, "What's this?"
"Look inside, silly."
I was looking inside. It was my stuff. All the stuff I may have left in her house over the years, or the stuff I may have given her over the years.
"It's your stuff!" Erica said, "I figured you would want to have them back."
I fingered a small, metal mood ring I'd given her on her tenth birthday.
"That's...awful nice of you."
"Ah, well," she turned away.
I tucked the box underneath my arm.
"I'm guessing I should go," Erica said, giving her watch a flamboyant glance, "I want to get to the highway before the rush hour traffic, you know?"
"It's probably best," I said.
I wanted to ask her if she would write, email, or call me. I wanted to ask her if she would visit every once in a while, if she would come back and give her old life a glance. I wanted to ask her all these things, but I said nothing.
"This has been fun," she says, "A wild ride."
Memories came rushing back to me faster than I care to admit. Suddenly, everything I'd ever said to her, every memory I'd ever made with her, even the small, insignificant ones came rushing back like a tidal wave. It was as if I were another person, reaching the end of a chapter in a novel.
"Goodbye, pal."
I watch her leave until she's out of sight. Then, I listen to the sounds of her car engine, I listen until it disappears, until the sounds of bugs take over again. Although my mind told me that she would write, she would be back, I had a gut feeling that this would be the last time that I ever see her.
"Goodbye, pal," she'd said.
Pal? Was that all I was? Not a friend? A friend since childhood?
"This has been fun," she'd said, "A wild ride."
A wild ride, not a, "It was nice knowing you. I'm going to miss you."
Erica was important to me. She was my best friend, one of the few friends I had. I never realized that I'd cherished her more than she did me.
It's now been almost a year since she moved away. I haven't heard from her since the day she left. I wish that it hadn't turned out like this, but there is nothing I can do but move on with my life. Erica may be gone, she may not have loved me as I did her, but that is of no importance anymore. I can make new friends, and have done so. I will remember her, but if I want to be happy, I need not to focus on the pain any more, and just remember the happy times as they were.
My chapter with Erica may be over, but I can now look forward to the new chapters to come.
How can you describe what it feels like to love some one who loves you not?
"A wild ride," she smiles.
How can you describe what it's like to feel something so strong for someone who doesn't hold you dear?
"Goodbye, pal."
The window rolls up, and I am left staring at my expression. I had told myself that I would be polite, composed, but the reflection appeared to show more than I liked. My musings are cut when the car begins to move. I watch my friend drive away, I watch the dust roll up from the tires. I can see the large dent on the left side of the bumper. I grit my teeth so hard they creak. I remember when her car had gotten that dent, we'd both been in the front seat, laughing and screaming as the person behind us drove up a bit too close.
How can you describe what's like to feel a chapter in your life close without even knowing it was going to end?
I've known Erica Thomas since elementary school. I've always known her. She was my best friend, we were a team. We were buddies. We loved each other.
I loved Erica. She was one of the greatest friends I ever had. She was my friend when no one else was.
"This has been fun," she said, "A wild ride."
Moving away?
"Goodbye, pal."
She announced she was moving not one week ago, after she'd made the arrangements.
"You're moving?" I asked her, my voice cracking against my will.
"I am," she said, her lips, I remember, a thin line, "I'm moving to Washington."
"DC?"
"State."
Why. Why. It was the only question I had. We'd certainly grown apart as we've grown up. For a while we remained friends, but, for the past year, at least, it has been as though, while she grew up and became a woman, I stayed but a child.
But moving? So suddenly? Why?
"I've got family up there," she explained, refusing to look at me, "I hate living here. If I move, I can be with the people I love, and be a happier person."
"I--I see," I said. She didn't tell me she was moving. I found out after overhearing a teacher.
"She's not going to be in this class anymore."
"I hate living here," she said, "If I move, I can be with the people I love, and be a happier person."
Was she not happy? I didn't know. I never knew. She never told me. Perhaps I should have known?
"Well," I told her, "I hope you like it there."
"Me too," she nodded.
Then she went away.
A week later, I saw her car moving up her driveway, the back loaded with boxes of her stuff. I walked over to her, my hands shoved deep in my pockets. The car slowed to a stop, and as I approached, the window rolled down.
"Hey!" she said to me, a smile painted on her face.
"Hello," I replied, giving her car a once over, "You....you leaving, now?"
"Sure am!" she said, tossing her hair away from her face, "Got a long drive ahead of me, I wanted to get an early start."
"That's sensible," I nodded.
An awkward silence filled the air as each of us waited for the other to say something.
"Oh!" she said suddenly, "I've got something for you!"
Something like hope coursed through me.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!" she said, "Look in the back seat, towards you, there's a box with your name on it."
I hesitated before pulling open the car door. There was indeed, a small box with my name written on it. Pulling it out, I asked, "What's this?"
"Look inside, silly."
I was looking inside. It was my stuff. All the stuff I may have left in her house over the years, or the stuff I may have given her over the years.
"It's your stuff!" Erica said, "I figured you would want to have them back."
I fingered a small, metal mood ring I'd given her on her tenth birthday.
"That's...awful nice of you."
"Ah, well," she turned away.
I tucked the box underneath my arm.
"I'm guessing I should go," Erica said, giving her watch a flamboyant glance, "I want to get to the highway before the rush hour traffic, you know?"
"It's probably best," I said.
I wanted to ask her if she would write, email, or call me. I wanted to ask her if she would visit every once in a while, if she would come back and give her old life a glance. I wanted to ask her all these things, but I said nothing.
"This has been fun," she says, "A wild ride."
Memories came rushing back to me faster than I care to admit. Suddenly, everything I'd ever said to her, every memory I'd ever made with her, even the small, insignificant ones came rushing back like a tidal wave. It was as if I were another person, reaching the end of a chapter in a novel.
"Goodbye, pal."
I watch her leave until she's out of sight. Then, I listen to the sounds of her car engine, I listen until it disappears, until the sounds of bugs take over again. Although my mind told me that she would write, she would be back, I had a gut feeling that this would be the last time that I ever see her.
"Goodbye, pal," she'd said.
Pal? Was that all I was? Not a friend? A friend since childhood?
"This has been fun," she'd said, "A wild ride."
A wild ride, not a, "It was nice knowing you. I'm going to miss you."
Erica was important to me. She was my best friend, one of the few friends I had. I never realized that I'd cherished her more than she did me.
It's now been almost a year since she moved away. I haven't heard from her since the day she left. I wish that it hadn't turned out like this, but there is nothing I can do but move on with my life. Erica may be gone, she may not have loved me as I did her, but that is of no importance anymore. I can make new friends, and have done so. I will remember her, but if I want to be happy, I need not to focus on the pain any more, and just remember the happy times as they were.
My chapter with Erica may be over, but I can now look forward to the new chapters to come.
