dear good friend

Story by Katelin Tharp

| SPRING 2019 ISSUE | FICTION

Dear good friend,

I don't regret a minute of it. Being given the chance to play with you, laugh with you amidst the grassy plains of our old schoolyard. Fifth grade mancala and sixth grade basketball games - the people may have changed but the memories stay the same. And I remember you, me, and our group of friends, and all I can associate with it is the feeling of finally being free. 

Who would've known that just four years later, we wouldn't be able to recognize the person standing in front of us? 

I let go a long time ago, but try as I might, I can't bring myself to forget those years; every moment is conflated with the kindness of your smile. Almost like a portrait frozen in time. While now I know that's nostalgia casting its rose-tinted spell, part of me still wonders whether you think of me, your good friend, when those years come to mind, too. 

You taught me the meaning of seasons. That every season ushers in new people, new meaning; that what is given sometimes has to be taken away. Though I questioned this truth for a very long time, I no longer hurt over the year we fell apart. In fact, I embrace it. You taught me how to see the joys in life (even when I wanted no part in them) and you taught me how to love. And in doing so, you taught me how to let you go.

People often say that someone might leave your life after you have learned something from them. But you always were the exception; you made sure I knew that life goes on no matter who's in it. No matter if you've learned your lesson right away or not.

That just as we learned in seventh grade biology that the human skin repairs itself, we, too, will learn to heal - and maybe even to love others again.

Thank you.

Yours,
Katelin