I finished step 1: take out my phone. I saw the date on the
lock screen. And I have one of those old iPhones because I
get scared when a new iPhone costs the same as a new computer,
so I have to use Touch ID to unlock my phone. I put
my thumb on the home button, and my phone flashed, “Try
again,” and I looked at my phone and groaned. I looked at
my lock screen again and saw the date. Today was February 9.
Two days ago was February 7, and I had a busy Friday. Those
days have typically been busy for me this semester, but on this
particular day was my birthday. My friends celebrated with
me, and it was a nice day. On Friday evenings, I go to a Christian
fellowship called The Branch. I love going there, and they
had something special planned for me. It was sweet.
It was a good day, and I was entirely upset. All I could think of
is another special celebration that would occur in one week.
I’m jumping ahead too quickly. Let me go back to winter
break.
In January, I visited a few of my teachers from high school.
I love catching up with them and hearing what they’ve been
up to. Walking through the halls, I passed by a younger student
and she stopped and asked me, “Hey! How’s college?” I
delivered my normal spiel, but she quickly followed up with:
“How’s your best friend? You guys were inseparable.”
How is she? I wasn’t sure. We hadn’t spoken to one another in
six months.
“She’s doing well! College is hard, but I know she’s doing her
best.”
And I moved on. I went home, and I read all these books
and articles and all this other nonsense, hoping to understand
what was happening. The more memories I reflected on, the
more I realized how much I missed her.
That is why on February 9, when I tried unlocking my phone,
seeing the date reminded me even more of this friend who
shaped who I was. “Hurt” is not an apt word to describe what
I felt, but neither is “frustrated.” It was a feeling of anxiety,
of not knowing why talking to each other got so hard and of
having an empty hope that things would improve.
On February 15, I sent her a happy birthday text. I told her
that I hope all is well. I closed my phone, and I went back to
writing about friendship, trying to figure out what it all meant.
Only a month later, I returned home to Cincinnati as a result
of the COVID-19 pandemic. I found it funny that after all
that work, all my thoughts about friendship would have to
fundamentally change. Relationships through a screen function
and develop much differently than the ones we forge
through personal interactions. I spent the next few days sleeping
late and sleeping in, not having much to look forward to.
A few days later, I received a text:
Hey, just wanted to let you know my family and I are thinking about you
rn. When I think of our memories together, I start to cry.
Please stay safe.
The notification felt so familiar even though I had not received
a text from her in months. I smiled, and then I cried. I
couldn’t wait to catch up with her. We picked up right where
we left off.
I really miss you, dude. I’m really, really glad to hear from you.
There are many questions you might have, and there is not
enough space here for me to share the significance and gravity
of this moment. Allow me to begin the discussion: why could
I not write my piece on friendship?
28 Fall 2020
Way Back Home, Ashley Yae '23