Most of our childhood together I have no memory of – she moved to British Columbia before either of us were old enough to understand what was happening.
We had semi-annual visits, now evidenced only by a slew of photographs. Bound in volumes of photo books, preserved between layers of cellophane, are these moments: at the Calgary Zoo, cheeks stained orange by popsicles; on her lawn, dressed in identical denim jumpers (see two little goons pictured above), clutching purple and pink beaded jump ropes; we two seated on the dusty-rose carpet of my staircase; draped in flower-print dresses, experimenting on her piano, discussing Middle C.
I am grateful for these images and for the tangibility they afford my childhood, a history. If not for snapshots taken by camera-happy parents, these early years would be nothing but a void.
What I do remember about our early friendship cannot be captured by a photo – how electrically excited I felt in the moments preceding our time together. On my family’s occasional pilgrimages to BC, I recall straining out of my car seat, observing the windshield wipers as they made broad sweeps, twin metronomes to which I matched my breathing; I counted along to the scrape of cracked rubber to distract myself from impatience.
Little fist clenching my father’s GPS, I gazed listlessly at the digital map showing our vehicle’s location in proximity to her address. I anxiously watched the number on the screen count down the time between us: ETA 10 minutes, 9 minutes, 8 minutes... After hours transiting across the Alberta-British Columbia border, up into the Rocky Mountains, and through her city, those final moments seemed to expand into an infinity, nearly bringing me to tears.
“Can you guys pleaaase drive faster?” A helpless little voice repeatedly echoed from the backseat.
Despite our distance and the infrequency of our visits, she was, without a doubt, my very best friend. However, I grew older, became preoccupied by other people and school, my field of vision narrowed, and she was relegated to the back of my consciousness. We still saw each other, sometimes talked on the phone, sent an occasional letter – and I loved every second of it – but our visits became infrequent. After years apart, distance was finally setting in.
We kept in contact – minimally, just enough to get by. Our conversations were superficial, tedious, repetative.
Me: “Hi!”
Her: “Hey!!”
Me, desperate for conversation: “Anything new?”
Her, grasping:” We….got a new lawnmower, the ones you ride on. John Deere.”
Me, not about the acreage life, knows nothing about this John Deere thing: “Cool!”
Her, contemplating the disadvantages of push-mowers: “yeahhhh…”
Me, adamant that conversation would NOT end here; it had just begun! : “Cool”
Her, with a blandish tone: “Cool.”
Me, sighing to add length to the conversation: “Soooooooo…”
Her, flat out of ideas: “Yeahhhhhhhh…”
You get the point – it was painful.
It became slightly ridiculous how close we came to seeing each other without actually seeing each other; she’d come visit family in Calgary but our schedules simply wouldn’t line up or I’d drive though BC, past her city but it was just too far out of our way to drop by. Slowly, we were losing touch. And then, miraculously, last year, we found 19 hours to spend together, spanning the end of 2016 and the start of 2017 – New Years Eve. I believe it was here was where we found ourselves again.
From the moment we met up downtown, conversation went smoothly. Over racks of clothes and coffee mugs we spoke about things we had never addressed before. We caught up with each other and filled in the years with a new honesty. Somehow, despite the distance, we had grown into very similar people; this I could see clearly. We hardly noticed the hours slipping by.
Later that evening, we had an exceptionally filling – nearly nauseating – dinner at Swiss Chalet: a quarter chicken and caesar salad and rolls and butter and dip and gravy and stuffing and fries and five lindt chocolates, which I ate in rapid succession. Oof. This excessive dinner, along with the painfully omnipresent knowledge that our time together was rapidly running out, made us both a little restless. Once back home, we agreed it was frivolous staying inside, let alone wasting our time sleeping.
At two a.m., we made our way out into the chill of the night, toting skates and shovels. See, I live on a lake, which freezes solid each winter. When we found our spot, we laced up our skates with numb fingers, and began shovelling off a rink on the ice. I recall the exceptional quality of the air that night: still, trembling with ice crystals, the two a.m. sky illuminated by refracted light stolen from windows of New Years Eve party venues and highway light posts.
Maybe it was high blood-sugar levels or the adrenaline of rekindling a friendship or the oxygen settled across the ice, but we had endless energy. After we had shoveled the rink, we skated for what was about two hours, talking and laughing all the while. And when we finally came back inside, rosy cheeks and numb ears, those two past hours retrospectively felt like an eternity and an instant, both.
In those two hours, I had felt pure joy – something a little bit foreign to this particular teenager who is so often preoccupied by the trivialities and urgencies of life that I forget to really be. It felt like a full circle; she and I had finally reclaimed the place we once inhabited – childhood and friendship. Somehow in the innocence of simply skating in a silent world muffled by fresh snow, inhaling the celebratory air of a new year, we had revisited our pasts and moved into our futures.
Being “mature”, in the way it is often defined, is overrated. Losing sleep, laughing, reconnecting, fresh air, finding real delight in existence – that is what I live for. Across years spent attempting to grow up and shed my childhood, I had nearly lost a friend who means the world to me. What else has slipped away while I wasn’t looking?
In itself, this little adventure may seem relatively insignificant, but it suggested to me the importance of reclaiming youth for all its effortless happiness – available to those who only embrace it.
Dear Lauryn,
I am left speechless and I’m in awe of what an awesome writer you are. I relate to this so much, although I am yet to have my 19 hours with my best friend. But you effortlessly poured out your heart in this piece and definitely made my heart smile. For suggestions, maybe you give us a little more insight as to how you finally met up. This was a great piece, I love it.
Love,
Tolu x
Dear Tolu,
Thank you so much for all your kind words! I sincerely hope you and your best friend find that connection.
And I completely see how that transition would benefit from elaboration. Thanks again for reading!
~Lauryn <3
My lovely Lauryn,
Remember last semester when I made that comment on an AP blog–I can’t quite remember which one it was–of yours? The one where I had told you how obsessed I was with your writing and how I needed to start commenting on other people’s blogs for a change instead of only commenting on yours? Well, that was AP and this is Creative Writing, so that obligation no longer exists (at least, not yet…hehe…)
What I am trying to say is that this piece was EXCEPTIONAL. It was an absolute pleasure to read it. First, allow me to list for you–and it is a long list–the aspects of this narrative that I especially enjoyed:
– Reading your writing alone has improved my vocabulary; your writing never fails to teach me new words or introduce to me words I may be familiar with but have never thought of using in my own writing before. In this piece specifically, a new word I learned was “relegated.” 😛
– Clever format for dialogue. While the formatting of “Me:” and “Her:” might be considered to be informal/redundant by some, in this narrative, it is a convention/rule that you broke nicely. What I appreciate about this stylistic choice is that each repetition of “Me:” and “Her:” felt like a punch to the gut which, in a way, emphasized the forced nature of the conversation; similarly, the conversation itself would have been painful like a punch. (Let me know if that makes sense…)
– GREAT sentence structure for your description about the meal at Swiss Chalet. Again, this is an instance in which you broke conventional grammatical rules, but you broke them WELL. Your lack of commas and your utilization of the run on sentence accurately describes the onslaught of food you experienced that night–there was no room to breathe in both the sentence and during your dinner as well, I’m sure. 😉 Cool connection there!
– And BEAUTIFUL imagery here: “I recall the exceptional quality of the air that night: still, trembling with ice crystals, the two a.m. sky illuminated by refracted light stolen from windows of New Years Eve party venues and highway light posts.” This is probably my favourite line in the entire anecdote.
Now, just a few tiny areas of improvement I would suggest:
– Minor typo. Instead of saying “We caught up with each other and filled in the years with a new HONESTY,” you wrote “honestly.” 😉
– When you mention that you and your friend had grown into similar people, I would have just liked to have seen a little bit of elaboration as to HOW you two are similar.
– Watch your tenses. For example, in one sentence you say, “Little fist clenching my father’s GPS, I gazed listlessly…” “Gazed” is a past tense word. But then, in another sentence, you say, “A helpless little voice repeatedly echoes from the backseat.” “Echoes” isn’t a past tense word. Just a little thing you could clean up.
Honestly though, Lauryn, I am in awe of your talent. I am sure I have told you this before, but I really do mean it. You are one of the most BRILLIANT writers I have ever encountered. AND I can’t stop stalking your blog. UGH. <3
XOXO,
Jade
Dear Jadey Bear,
Wow, this reply is overdue. And OF COURSE I remember that comment – and I’m begging you to never ever stop commenting on any of my blogs because your comments are BEYOND validating and helpful. (also I can’t stop stalking your blog so dw – it’s mutual)
Thank you so much for all your critiques. And thank you for catching my errors and saving my butt once again ;).
Also, if we want to talk about brilliant writers, it’s you we should be discussing. Just saying. <3
Love,
Lauryn
Dear Lauryn
wow this piece really captures the essence of losing touch with friends long ago. I enjoyed how you created the dialogue in the part where you explain how you and your friend kept in touch but barely. You really showed the emotions behind it; how awkward it was and not knowing what to say. I can relate to this narrative on some level; I’ve had friends who’ve moved away and lost touch with, but very few who I have reunited with.
The only things I would suggest to improve on would be to maybe elaborate at the end on if you still keep in touch with your friend and what you did when you first met up with your friend. Besides that its an excellent narrative that is very emotional and I enjoyed it a lot.
-Savannah
Dear Savannah,
Thank you so much for your comment! I’m glad you found my story relatable because it gives me confidence in the way I told this story. And I’ll definitely take your suggestion for next time!
Love,
Lauryn
p.s. I hope you are able to reconnect with those people you’ve lost touch with 🙂
Dear Lauryn,
I have endless positive words to describe your personal anecdote. Beautiful, descriptive, alluring, inspiring and many more. These are just the few of them. That’s how marvellous your anecdote was. Although I have not read much of your blogs, I learned many ideas, concepts, and your unique style from just one written piece consisting of 1,066 words. I absolutely agree with Mrs. Hunnisett, this was truly an excellent exemplar of a personal anecdote. Having a personal anecdote that is short in length, excellent use of vocabulary, great usage of GUMPS, and finally, having a beautiful takeaway or moral at the end is really difficult to do; however, you applied all of these beyond what was asked of and I am inspired by you.
As of improvements, I would suggest you add on how old you were when you met your best friend and how you both reacted upon seeing each other. Moreover, in one of your sentences, “an infinity, nearly bringing me to tears”, if you added why you felt that way and the details along with it, it would make your anecdote much more stronger. Furthermore, adding more details after this sentence, ” I had nearly lost a friend who means the world to me” such as how you felt before with minimal contact with your friend and how you felt after you spent “nineteen hours” with her. This would greatly increase the clarity of your anecdote and the specific paragraph.
As of Jade and Savannah’s comments, I agree with them that your usage of vocabulary was outstanding. Truly, I learned many vocabulary words and the style of dialogue. Honestly, you poured out your creativity onto the words of your anecdote and twisted in such a way that I have endless words to describe it. I had extremely close friends who went to many places far away from me and I know the feeling of it. I appreciate that you expressed those feelings into your personal anecdote into a sweet detailed moment of “Nineteen Hours”. Keep up the great work and now I am a fan of your writing. Indeed, it was enjoyable to read your anecdote and I hope to read more from your blogs. Once again, thanks for sharing this delightful personal anecdote!
Sincerely,
Ayesha
Dear Ayesha,
Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story and leave such a thorough comment! I’m truly flattered that my story was a source of inspiration to you. I love learning new words so it is also an honor to know you learned a couple from my blog!
I totally get what you mean about expanding those details, and I’ll be sure to keep it in mind. Thanks again!
Love,
Lauryn 🙂