(Image from weheartit.com)
My friend, Hope (name change, just in case she doesn't want it here), moved away at the end of the summer.
It's nice, talking to her over MSN, hearing about her day and her school. But it's also weird--removed. Hope is one of those rare, wonderful people who are totally fearless and totally vulnerable at the same time. She was always up for anything; a loud, vibrant person. Except when she wasn't. Hope could be shy and awkward just as much as the rest of us. But she could make anyone feel comfortable with just a few words.
She's coming back to Terrace in a few days (13 days, 14 nights, she told me), and I'm excited, but I'm also worried about what might have changed.
Hope has always kind of overwhelmed me. She's so bright and alive and crazy, and I definitely wish I could be more like her. As much as I want to talk to her in person again, I'm a little worried.
She and one of her good friends have a bet going that Hope will star in a movie before her friend publishes a book. They're the kind of people that will still be in touch in, say, twenty years. Me? I'm not so sure.
I'm sure I'll still know at least a few of my close friends. I really can't be sure, though. I definitely want to know what all these fabulous people will do with their lives, but once we're no longer seeing each other in school every day, I don't know if we'll really remember.
There I go, getting all nostalgic over things that haven't happened yet.
One thing's for sure, though. I don't want to forget. The evening air is cool and crisp, and we have our fireplace lit. It's the perfect first day of Fall.
This is a season of courage.