There is a strange beauty to missing my old friends. It is not just the gap they leave but how their absence alters the path of my life, like how the seasons shift. Each in their own way a part of me, roots wrapped around each other, and leaves rustling in the wind together.
Change and distance might have altered the geography of our connections, but the memories are permanently carved like holes in tree bark.
The Willow Tree
A specific friend comes to my mind with a willow tree, the one whose branches cascade down in smooth parabolas that touch the ground like a whispered sigh of a well-kept secret. At one point we were close; like two branches intertwined, we shared our thoughts, laughter, and silences. She listened to me and gave comfort in my troubles. Life whirled us apart, like the wind does with fallen leaves, and between us grew a wide river, widening its banks. In the quiet times, I think about the memories we made and how they shaped my childhood.
The Wild River
There is another friend from my past who reminds me of a winding river, untamed and always on the move. When I was young, we dove head first into every challenge and adventure, rushing through my life as if we could outrun the setting sun. She always carried a sense of urgency with her, an energy that propelled us both forward as we opened up new routes through the neighborhood. And with time, like that stream carving through stone, our ways diverged, and different, separate rivers tugged at us from different directions. Still, a hint of her liveliness, echoing as the water splashes over the rock, runs inside. I miss the vivacity she brought to every situation, like refreshing river water that rejuvenates your spirit.
The Oak Tree
The next friend makes me think of a strong, courageous oak tree that stands out among the others. Her trunk was entwined with the roots of all those who came before her. It was one of those slow-growing friendships, nurtured over years of similar experiences. It was the sort of friendship that didn’t need to be spoken about often, as somehow the understanding was always there, our hearts growing intertwined with time.
Distance hasn’t changed it; it has instead made the roots stronger, and deeper in me. Though the physical boundary between us now feels as wide as an entire oak tree forest itself, I know the tree of our friendship will always stand tall, even if we no longer walk beneath their branches together every day. I miss that familiar oak tree more than I would like to admit; even though it’s been four years, I still feel a piece of me missing. I wish I could teleport over and hang out like we used to, but until then, I’ll take our random chats. It is like a surprise gift, but with less excitement and more awkward texting small talk.
Friends are like things in nature, eternal in their capacity for change and maturity, a part of us, like the elements forming our bones. They shape us, bend us, and settle in the quiet spaces that I left behind in my past. They remind us of who we were and who we are still becoming. Though we may not see them every day, or every year, their presence lingers in our hearts, growing and evolving with us.
