See You Later
In second grade, my best friend almost moved 433 miles away from me.
Late last night that same best friend actually moved 1,781 miles away from me.
We spent our whole lives being best friends. Every milestone was meant for the two of us to share together, no matter what the circumstance was.
But last night Rachel Sison moved to Sacramento, California which just so happens to be 1,781 miles away from Skokie, Illinois. I have never been more disheartened by anything in my life.
Last night was a ‘see you later’, not a goodbye. Although, it surely felt like a goodbye.
I walked to Rachel’s house one last time. I now had to say goodbye to my best friend, and my second home at 5039 Fairview Lane in Skokie, Illinois. I had to say goodbye to her empty bedroom where I’ve spent nights crying my eyes out, and nights laughing my heart out. I had to say goodbye to the front porch where I’ve spent hours reminiscing on the past, and hours imagining the future. I had to say goodbye to her basement where we’ve pulled way too many all-nighters watching Lost and One Tree Hill on Netflix and where we have done countless other things that shouldn’t be typed out. I had to say goodbye to her living room where we spent every Tuesday night for two summers straight watching Pretty Little Liars after a dreaded inservice at Niles Oasis Waterpark. I had to say goodbye to her kitchen where we’ve baked cookies and eaten pasta and where we’ve made jello shots and eaten Giordano's pizza. I had to say goodbye to my best friend of 16 years. I had to take all of our memories and put them in a jar. I had to close the jar and lock it because we were going to take a break. Our adventures have been put on hold because we are currently 1,781 miles apart. But I must continue to remind myself that although it feels like goodbye, this is not goodbye. It will never be a goodbye with Rachel Sison. We have been through way too much.
When I arrived, the front door was closed. I texted her: “Here.” I wasn’t sure the next time I’d be able to text her that. The door swung open and we looked at each other. Without even a word, we were both in tears; the screen door was still separating us.
Seconds later ,she walked outside still sobbing and fell into my arms. “This is by far my hardest goodbye. I love you so much,” she said to me, in between sobs. I couldn’t catch my breath. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.
We sat in silence other than the occasional breakdowns for a little while. Then I worked up the nerve to speak. “You’re my best friend, you know that right?” She tried to say something but was interrupted by unwanted tears. “I know,” she managed, eventually. “You’re mine too. You’re the only person who fits that title in my life. You’re my go-to. Now and when I’m in California. You will always be my person,” she said.
I don’t remember a lot of the conversation but I do remember the tears. I don’t remember the last time I cried that much. I don’t think I have ever cried that much.
For as long as I can remember, Rachel and I have walked each other halfway home. So, come 1:17 A.M. it was time for that walk. We were already 17 minutes late. But we wanted to prolong our final walk as long as we possibly could. But it came and went way too fast.
We stood at our half way point for another 22 minutes. We hugged 4 different times, each time thinking it was our last one, yet coming in for three more because we couldn’t bear it.
There wasn’t a dry eye for either of us the entire night.
“We always knew this was coming,” I started. “But now that it’s finally here I can’t accept it.”
“Me too, J-Bo. But listen, I will always be here. Maybe not physically, but if you ever feel alone you pick up the phone. Forever and always. Best friends forever, right?”
“Right,” I said.
“I can’t wait to see all that you accomplish, Jenna George. You will be the world’s best journalist,” she said.
“And you will be the world’s best marine biologist,” I said.
“Okay, last hug.”
We hugged for at least two minutes, still crying of course.
“This is it,” I said.
“For now,” she said.
“For now,” I replied.
“I love you,” we said simultaneously. We were holding hands and slowly loosening our grip.
“Bye,” we said again at the same time and we both turned around and started walking our separate directions.
“I love you, Rachel” I yelled when I was down the block.
“I love you, J,” she yelled right back.
When I turned around again, she had already turned the corner and that was it.
My best friend and I are now 1,781 miles apart from each other and I have never been so disheartened.
I can’t wait until we are able to unlock that jar.
Until next time, xoxo
Late last night that same best friend actually moved 1,781 miles away from me.
We spent our whole lives being best friends. Every milestone was meant for the two of us to share together, no matter what the circumstance was.
But last night Rachel Sison moved to Sacramento, California which just so happens to be 1,781 miles away from Skokie, Illinois. I have never been more disheartened by anything in my life.
Last night was a ‘see you later’, not a goodbye. Although, it surely felt like a goodbye.
I walked to Rachel’s house one last time. I now had to say goodbye to my best friend, and my second home at 5039 Fairview Lane in Skokie, Illinois. I had to say goodbye to her empty bedroom where I’ve spent nights crying my eyes out, and nights laughing my heart out. I had to say goodbye to the front porch where I’ve spent hours reminiscing on the past, and hours imagining the future. I had to say goodbye to her basement where we’ve pulled way too many all-nighters watching Lost and One Tree Hill on Netflix and where we have done countless other things that shouldn’t be typed out. I had to say goodbye to her living room where we spent every Tuesday night for two summers straight watching Pretty Little Liars after a dreaded inservice at Niles Oasis Waterpark. I had to say goodbye to her kitchen where we’ve baked cookies and eaten pasta and where we’ve made jello shots and eaten Giordano's pizza. I had to say goodbye to my best friend of 16 years. I had to take all of our memories and put them in a jar. I had to close the jar and lock it because we were going to take a break. Our adventures have been put on hold because we are currently 1,781 miles apart. But I must continue to remind myself that although it feels like goodbye, this is not goodbye. It will never be a goodbye with Rachel Sison. We have been through way too much.
When I arrived, the front door was closed. I texted her: “Here.” I wasn’t sure the next time I’d be able to text her that. The door swung open and we looked at each other. Without even a word, we were both in tears; the screen door was still separating us.
Seconds later ,she walked outside still sobbing and fell into my arms. “This is by far my hardest goodbye. I love you so much,” she said to me, in between sobs. I couldn’t catch my breath. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.
We sat in silence other than the occasional breakdowns for a little while. Then I worked up the nerve to speak. “You’re my best friend, you know that right?” She tried to say something but was interrupted by unwanted tears. “I know,” she managed, eventually. “You’re mine too. You’re the only person who fits that title in my life. You’re my go-to. Now and when I’m in California. You will always be my person,” she said.
I don’t remember a lot of the conversation but I do remember the tears. I don’t remember the last time I cried that much. I don’t think I have ever cried that much.
For as long as I can remember, Rachel and I have walked each other halfway home. So, come 1:17 A.M. it was time for that walk. We were already 17 minutes late. But we wanted to prolong our final walk as long as we possibly could. But it came and went way too fast.
We stood at our half way point for another 22 minutes. We hugged 4 different times, each time thinking it was our last one, yet coming in for three more because we couldn’t bear it.
There wasn’t a dry eye for either of us the entire night.
“We always knew this was coming,” I started. “But now that it’s finally here I can’t accept it.”
“Me too, J-Bo. But listen, I will always be here. Maybe not physically, but if you ever feel alone you pick up the phone. Forever and always. Best friends forever, right?”
“Right,” I said.
“I can’t wait to see all that you accomplish, Jenna George. You will be the world’s best journalist,” she said.
“And you will be the world’s best marine biologist,” I said.
“Okay, last hug.”
We hugged for at least two minutes, still crying of course.
“This is it,” I said.
“For now,” she said.
“For now,” I replied.
“I love you,” we said simultaneously. We were holding hands and slowly loosening our grip.
“Bye,” we said again at the same time and we both turned around and started walking our separate directions.
“I love you, Rachel” I yelled when I was down the block.
“I love you, J,” she yelled right back.
When I turned around again, she had already turned the corner and that was it.
My best friend and I are now 1,781 miles apart from each other and I have never been so disheartened.
I can’t wait until we are able to unlock that jar.
Until next time, xoxo