See You Soon.

Dear Best Friends,

Seven months ago you guys asked me to write about you. I thought tonight, after our last time together for a while would be a good time to do it.

I’ve felt stuck in time recently. Missing and yearning for something that shouldn’t have ended already.

Maybe it’s because I feel everything way too deeply (I am an Aquarius, after all), but I have a hard time letting go of the little things. Like the leaves that scatter on my lawn during the first windstorm of the fall, the songs I first learned to play on the piano. Memories that come flooding in through rose colored glasses–never really leaving me.

Letting go of people is the hardest though. Especially the people I hold closest to me.

As August slips away, as time moves along without us; falling victim to each sunrise and sunset that passes us by, we forget to cherish the few moments we have left to be just kids from a small town.

And as we walk empty streets, sit comfortably in the silence of a parked car with only each other as a distraction, part of me wonders how much it will hurt realizing I’ll never get these small moments back.

Oh, what I wouldn’t do for another year of safety. Another year hearing the same laughter I’ve committed to memory again and again.

But I guess we aren’t meant to spend our lives surrounded by the same people. People grow–we all grow–according to those we allow to be let into our heads and hearts.

But I let you in. Knocked down each wall built by the girls who laughed and mocked, just for you. And in return I got to spend some of my best, and worst years alongside you.

You let me say my stupid thoughts out loud (told me when they were a little too stupid), let me grow, let me live, and reminded me how to. I think you knew me better than I knew myself, really. (We also did some pretty stupid things too, most of which I can’t exactly write about).

Finding friendships as strong as the ones I have made in my youth is something I will take for granted as I get older. Someday I’ll find myself waking up in an overpopulated city constantly crowded with people, feeling completely alone.

I hope then is when I will remember driving along route 53, windows down, wind destroying our hair as we shout the lyrics of the song playing, with the rush of freedom keeping us from worrying about the future.

And I hope when we come back home—if everything we have come to know has changed, our friendship never will. Because really, all I want is to be able to laugh with you again.

Growing up is hard. But you have made it something worth missing. And I am forever grateful for that.