I’ll cheer you on from afar
Through likes on your graduation posts.
One day, on your wedding and children.
The occasional comment
(If I’m feeling brave).
Or prayers for you on my walk to class
Or vague updates to my mom when she lovingly asks me how you’re doing, and I realize
I don’t know enough about your life anymore to really answer.
It’s lonely to realize that,
In the minds of my friends who watched me grow up
And witnessed every awkward stage and adolescent disappointment,
(The braces,
The driver’s permit photo,
The cast list,
The dream college rejection)
I haven’t aged a day.
I will always be “most likely to teach at TCA.”
I will always be the cookies passed out in the hallways.
I will always be the study guides posted the night before the APUSH exam.
I will always be 17 to you.
But then again,
I suppose you will always be 17 to me, too.

For the friends I made in classes, in theatre productions, and in school cafeterias.
I wish we could grow old together the way we grew up together.

Leave a comment