We met when we were young, no more than seven years old. It was the first day of school and you were new, while I’d already been studying there for a year. I saw you clutching your mother’s hand and I saw that you were nervous, coming into this huge new place where you didn’t know anyone. And it was me that grabbed your hand, and together we walked into your first day of school and our life long journey.
From that moment on, we were best friends. We spent each and every year of school together, spent the lunch break playing and running around. Each and every experience that we went through, we went through together. We were punished together, we stood outside school talking after class together, we bunked our very first class together. We stood on that windy and rainy day in the school quietly, telling each other where we wanted to go in life. You told me to step out of the crowd and take the less trodden path. I told you to follow your passion as well. We both lived up to that. But there is nothing that I would not give to go back and live that day again and again.
Because too soon after that, school life was over, and we were going our separate ways. We promised that we would continue being best friends, and that never changed. But I hate how you had to leave the city to go to your dream college. I hate how we, who spent every day together, had to reduce that to a call every week. And then every other week.
Life caught up to us. We made new friends. I was so jealous of your friends though, you know that. They were getting to spend all that time with you in college that I wanted, but I was too far away.
Then things got worse. We went even farther, across the oceans. We both knew that this was the right path and this was what we needed to do to live our dreams. But suddenly, we were in different time zones. Suddenly, we were calling each other at the fixed times to find that the other person was asleep. Calling on Facebook allowed us to still talk to each other, but how rare were the occasions? We, who used to talk every day, every hour back when we were in school, were now rarely talking even in months.
But oh. When we finally got on that one call, it was like being back in school again. We were talking and arguing about the same old things that we always did. That didn’t change. The moment we talk, those miles seem to disappear. It’s like suddenly I’ve gone back to that rainy and windy day, confessing our deepest wishes and dreams to each other in that vulnerable moment of our lives that we will never lose.
We still talked about our hopes and dreams. We still talked about our heartbreaks. I will remember the day when you listened as I poured my heart out after my heart had been completely shattered here, and how you told me that things would get better. They did.
Last year was the toughest year that most of us who are alive now have come across. Suddenly, we were trapped in our own homes. I know things were difficult for you, in a strange land with no friend there at the time, all alone in your home with only your work to keep you busy. And there was a lot of work.
But I am proud of how you did, long-distance best friend. I’m proud that you didn’t give up and you persevered. I’m proud that even last year when we called, it was still like we were back in those days of school, arguing and laughing, even though some of the topics had changed.
We had some of the worst days possible last year, and I hate that when we went through that we were not able to hug each other. But in some ways, I felt justified. At least the rest of the world was going through what we have gone through for so many years as well, not able to hug that friend for so long despite everything.
The one thing that I know, in this year, is that whatever else may change, our friendship has not. I know that fateful day when you are able to make the journey back here, we are going to meet and the years are going to fall away as if they never existed. We are going to hug, and the world will never know that distance cannot break something so precious.
We both know, that though we fight our battles apparently alone, we have support stronger than anyone can ever imagine, just a phone call away.
Written by Poonam Chatterjee
I am the 27 -year-old budding author, pet lover, and foodie. From a tender age of ten, I found my calling in the written word and since then, has been scribbling away my unconventional ideas, sometimes in the last pages of notebooks and sometimes on online blogs. Writing gives me happiness like no other thing.
Week 4, January 2021.
