See You Later
Summer goodbyes highlight unbreakable bonds.
Walking into the oh so familiar bedroom of one of my closest friends, I began to study the walls, the pictures and her infamous messy floors (which make it utterly impossible to make out the exact color of the carpeting below). I had spent countless hours within these four pink walls before, dishing secrets and exploding with laughter. But as the reality set in, everything became so unfamiliar. As I walk out that door, I won’t be walking back in for four months. Months.
Ever heard of separation anxiety? Well it exists. Example A; my best friends. Since 7th grade, we’ve been inseparable (as any avid Glenbrook Confidential reader would catch on to by now, do I write about them too much?). If not physically with one another, you can count on our group text message blowing up. After “misplacing” (loosing) my phone for a weekend, I returned with a whooping 200 unread texts. Yes, true story. I took a snapshot of my screen for proof, because of course, that sounds completely unrealistic. Living in this reality, just simply imagine what it must feel like when the first of us heads off to college.
That was tonight. Cuddled up in her queen sized bed, elbows were thrown trying to get comfortable. We reminisced on our funniest memories, and overdramatized goodbyes. The range of sobs to laughs reminded me too much of my three and four year old campers, who have the magical ability to faceplant at the park claiming their limbs are hanging by a strand, while turning around the next moment laughing about the word “poopy.” I was thoroughly convinced it was just a boy thing, but my beliefs have officially been tossed aside. We simply couldn’t stay on track. Of course, we wanted to be sad yet we were so excited for the opportunities awaiting us. But without each other? Sobs again. You see how this night could have ended poorly.
And then there were six.
And after tomorrow, there will be five.
One by one, we are heading off into different directions. But as we declared our motto tonight, “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.” Cliche, yes. True? Completely.
To make the departure of loved ones even easier, I approach my last day of camp tomorrow. If the sarcasm in that last statement was not apparent, I’m now providing the helpful tip section of this article. The babies I have spent the summer with, including the three-year-old who seems certain that he is actually 100 years old, will depart from my teary eyes. At this point, it just seems like a little too much leaving. Things really need to start slowing down. Going from daily interactions with three and four year old children to a college dorm may be a tad bit of a culture shock. Hey, now that I’m thinking of it, it may not be a culture shock at all. Although technically college bound, these dorm boys may have parallel personalities to my campers. Was becoming a camp counselor only preparing me for college life? Quite possibly.
And although my campers may be following me to college in spirit, my six college bound best friends sure are not. The tears came streaming down my face tonight, as I’m sure another river approaches tomorrow. But with the tears comes the memories, and the realization that our bond is something great. Unique. Or else no tears would be shed, right? I’m not the world's best fake cryer, so I’d have to agree with myself on that last statement. I’ll just go ahead and answer my own question. Right. After all, it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.