The Circle of Us

 

 

We are all adults in 2024, each of us in an entirely different, detached life of our own.

But we were once 9, saving plants from the rain — because that was our term for harshness.

At 12, we worked on math problems together; granted, all wrong. When we were 15, we’d sit in our chairs, deciding which game to play next. At 18, we were saying goodbye, wishing each other luck with college and new friends. By 21, you welcomed me back home, only to say goodbye again — summer vacations were never long enough!

Sure, we will also be 30, married and maybe with children of our own.

We will be 40, each on a different continent, carrying the half-dust of our memories; that is to say, what will be left of them. In our 50s, we will reminisce, glorify, and laugh at our deeds on a Discord chat.

At 60, we will meet again, each back to being 9 and 10 and 11, and all the time beyond that.

Because when we meet, we do the opposite of growing up. We grow down. We become children. We go back to being zero.

And you know, it’s always nice to go back to being zero. It’s always beautiful to come back to the ground and remember this was your world that taught you how to breathe, and the secretive duality of this youthful existence.

God has used up all my luck in giving me a family so heartbreakingly distant. Oh, if I am ever to question who this person is — who is this woefully cryptic being inhabiting my own body? Who is this girl who has never grown up past 9?

I promise you, I will come running back to you.