I want to see you one more time, even if it’s just to say bye
A year ago, my best friend left the city for grad school. It’s been a year of adjusting our relationship so that we could talk, and still keep up with each other without being needy or missing out on each other’s lives. It was way harder than either of us expected, especially with life doling out its trials, and one of us needing the other one a little more than usual at different points of the school year.
He came back for a week this summer. One measly week. I got to hang out with him for one day of that week. It didn’t feel like it was enough.
Last summer, I think partly because we both knew he was leaving, and we both had the time for it, we used to hang out a lot. Once a week, maybe. And talk all the time. Because of the way our schedules work now, we do one phone call a week, and in the entire year of 2015, I’ve seen him four times.
We went back to our usual haunts, where you could find us last summer. It felt really good, but it also had a weird kind of wistfulness to it. Like we both knew that this wouldn’t last nearly as long as we’d like it to. And it didn’t. He’s gone again. I probably won’t see him until Christmas.
I think I had gotten “used to” him not being there all the time, and our non-constant conversations. But after hanging out with him all day, and reliving what our old friendship felt like, it hurt. It hurt a lot actually. I miss him more now.
Although we are both in better places than we were last year, and I’m proud of our respective growth as people and adults, I still miss the old us. The carefree, high school us. The stupid, undergrad us. Now we’re the logical, responsible adult us.
I’m just going to have to go back to getting used to missing you
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