Two weeks ago, I packed the majority of my worldly possessions into a 26-foot U-Haul truck and hit the pavement to Boston. This was the first time in my life that I moved out of Vermont, the place where I’ve always called home. I could write a cliché post about this time of change, taking a leap of faith, or how I’m starting a new chapter in my life –which is great so far, by the way.– However, I’m not going to. Instead, I will discuss a topic that hasn’t been able to escape from my mind for the last two weeks. It happened the night before I moved…
After finally completing my packing, I used the last few hours I had left in Vermont to meet up with a few of my best friends from high school. Although I had been extremely close with these girls for most of my life, we had started to drift our separate ways over the past few years. I was away at school, they were taking classes at colleges close to home. They were content and comfortable with the area that they knew so well, I wanted nothing to do with the town in which I grew up. Now, they are building houses, getting married, having babies, and falling into what is, to me, the “trap” of a small town.
Don’t get me wrong, it was great to see my old friends. That’s the definition of a true friendship, after all: when people can go months –or years– without exchanging a single word, but they’re able to meet up and have everything fall right back into place. That’s how it was for us. We shared stories and I was caught up on everyone’s lives. I held my friend’s baby for the first time, I heard about two of my friends’ engagement accounts, and we all became very excited as we discussed my friend’s upcoming wedding. We didn’t talk about weekend plans or job hunts or hopes and dreams for the future like I would typically discuss with my friends from college. We didn’t even really touch on the subject of me moving, besides a few murmurs of “Wow, that’s awesome” and “Good for you.”
All in all, when people want different things it’s hard to relate to one another. My old friends and I have 18 years of memories to keep us together, but our futures are beginning to veer off into completely different directions. A few years ago, I guess after we graduated from high school, we all came to the same fork in the road. I just happened to take a right, while others turned left. I love these girls and I’m so glad that they’re happy with where their lives are going. But deep down, all I can think is Thank.God.That’s.Not.Me.