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A Letter to the Past…ish

July 17, 2012

As I opened up the tab on my browser to write this I received an evite email for a bachelorette party for one of my oldest friends (no, not an elderly woman, stupid) that I won’t be able to attend, because I decided to move across the country just in time for the first wave of commitment/marriage amongst my friends. This is apropos to what I was going to write about, because today I wrote a letter (which I sent via Facebook Message, because this is 2012 and I don’t know where I packed my stamps) to another old friend.

Said friend just got married to a man I’ve never met, and I was not invited to the wedding. I wouldn’t have expected to have been as we haven’t spoken in years. We went to summer camp (French Woods, represent) together from 1999-2001 and we were very close. We wrote each other letters during the school year (I know I wrote most of mine from school, which is…probably why my grades were what they were) and then spent hours on the phone together, wracking up insane phone bills for our parents (long distance used to be a real thing, before cell phones were standard). I found myself looking through this girl’s wedding and honeymoon photos with a new kind of nostalgia, some sort of prideful nostalgia (for lack of a better term). I’m going to re-print (most of) the letter I wrote her here because I feel like it captures how I feel right now better than I’m explaining now.

Dear _____,

You and I used to send letters back and forth like it was going out of style (how were we to know that it truly was?). Here is another letter, in today’s up-to-date format.

I am SO happy for you! After looking through all of your beautiful wedding and honeymoon photos and wanting to “like” each one, I decided that sending you a direct, private (ish) message would be better suited.

If I have any regrets ever, they are always losing touch with people. It breaks my heart that I couldn’t be at your wedding. Not because I feel as though I should have been invited (I shouldn’t have, we haven’t communicated in years), but because I so regret having lost touch with you to the point where I missed witnessing the culmination of our adolescent musings about men. You got one! You married one! After hours and hours and pages and pages and oh, so many dollars wracked up on our parents’ phone bills discussing this boy, or that boy, or hand jobs and break ups and heartbreak and love, you got married. You got married on a gorgeous day and you looked gorgeous and your family was just as I remembered them. I am so, so very happy for you.

It is amazing to me that we are old enough to do things like that (getting married, I mean). It seems like yesterday that we weren’t old enough to be trusted (oh, so rightfully) with a video camera (VIDEO! oh, the days)) and now we can make lifelong vows of solidarity and love. You were always good at that, though, having things “together”, I mean. You always knew what you wanted, I think and you got it. _____, while I’ve never met him, seems so fabulous for you. And you’re about to be a rabbi, which is unbelievable and so fantastic.

I’m being dramatic, I know, but I’ve always been this way, right? I don’t want to lighten just how excited I am for you and your life.

It’s amazing where life takes you, isn’t it? If you’d told me when I was 13 years old in bunk G11A (right?) that 13 years later (ick) I’d be sitting in an apartment in Los Angeles with a sweeping view of the city (it’s not that fancy, but again, I’m being dramatic for the sake of posterity and to impress you) writing you a letter to congratulate you on getting married and becoming a Rabbi….well I wouldn’t be surprised at all, but I’d laugh a lot and probably resume telling ________ that she needs to shower, or something.  I’d obviously never believe that ____ would leave us, but somehow, and it’s taken me a long time to get to this point, but somehow that’s how it was meant to be. I guess what I’m trying to say, other than that I wish we were thirteen again and giving boys nicknames and putting signs up above our beds and being muddy and singing dirty songs with ______ and all of that, is that we’ve grown up nicely, and I’d love to get to know you again, now that we’re grown ups.

Life has taken us on very different paths, which we could have predicted, but I would love to hear from you and even see you the next time I’m on the east coast.

So much love,

Adria

With that, I’ll add one last thought: when you’re young your parents are always trying to tell you that time goes too fast and you never believe them because the thought of sitting through another three weeks of geometry class before summer break is terrifying, but it does, it moves way too fucking fast. Look where we are? Look where you are. Let’s have some fun again before we blink and we’re in a nursing home. I’m going to go do mushrooms on top of a mountain. (JUST KIDDING MOM I’M NOT I HAVE TO WORK TOMORROW I CAN’T I’LL JUST GO FOR A WALK OR SOMETHING BORING AND NORMAL BUT I’LL WEAR A WEIRD HAT OR SOMETHING OR MAYBE I’LL JUST WEAR NORMAL LEGGINGS BUT IN MY MIND I’LL KNOW IT’S LIKE I’M WEARING A WEIRD HAT.)

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