rekkidblogga

When you grow up

Maybe you don't believe, when you're 17, that the kid sitting next to you in high school English class won't always be a clown or the pretty girl or Most Popular Boy. You may think he or she will always make snide or stupid remarks about you or your friends or, really, just anyone not in their own little clique. It might not seem possible that someday, you'll be the one wishing that you were more like them -- more stable in your job, in your relationships, in your faith, in your family, in everything that life offers up daily as a challenge on some scale.

You may not think that almost 30 years later, you'll find yourself remembering those kids -- how they looked at 17, their smiles, their voices, the things they enjoyed that you maybe thought were ridiculous at the time. You'll remember them because they're gone. Cancer finally beat them or you were stunned to learn that they committed suicide. They all left behind families, people who loved and adored them, people who depended on them.

Maybe, if you're like me, you wonder if they had lived, whether they'd think of you if you were the one who had died. And then, if you're like me, you remind yourself that the point is just this: You miss them. You weren't even all that friendly but you think of them and you miss them.

posted by rekkidbraka @ 5:33 PM