On October fourteenth, my friends and I drove to New Jersey. We drove seven hours through four different states just to bring our friend home. Songs from the 80’s were played and we rediscovered songs from the early 2000’s. The car was filled with Reese’s wrappers, Red Bull cans and Sour Patch Kids. The drive was crippling and somehow being confined in such a small space brought us closer together. Easily the best adventure I’ve ever been on.
My time in New Jersey was nothing but different. I’ve lived in New Hampshire my whole life being a hunter’s daughter and have never seen as many deer as I did in New Jersey. Those animals walk across front yards, streets and even outside of hotels. People there don’t pump their own gas and chain their belongings to trees. Despite my surprise to how different one place can be, it was homey. There’s something about seeing a friend’s childhood hangout spots and eating at their favorite restaurants that creates this feeling of nostalgia. It brought us all back in time to a personal place, a place before college.
One morning we woke up early to watch the sunrise. My friend drove us in her death trap of a vehicle to her spot, waiting. We could see the New York City skyline and an orange and red sky. The sun peeked above the Freedom Tower, bringing the new day. I stood on a balcony wrapped in blankets thinking about how little sleep I got when we began talking about 9/11. We talked about the first responders, the families, and where we were that day. We talked about the 9/11 museum and Ground Zero, wondering how a person could suffer so much sadness. To cut it short, it was deep. It was a tough topic, one where we each had different responses.
As the orange and red’s became more vibrant, we talked about how happy we were to have met each other. Moving into college is weird and somehow we got lucky enough to have found each other. Our inside jokes, memories, and understanding of each other created a glue to our little family. I watched the silhouette of the city and the sun peak above the buildings and thought about my new beginning in college. It occurred to me that this was it. This was the beginning of a new part of my life and the people I was standing next to are the friends I was waiting for in high school. I learned that through anything and everything, there will always be an end and a beginning. No matter how impossible a day may seem, the sun will rise above the skyline tomorrow, and we’ll have our second chance. The sky became blood red.
We ran back into the car, finding five more deer. The windows were open and we stuck our heads out the window, embracing the new day. Our childhood selves had surfaced as we were settling into the beginning of our “adult” selves. Sharing that experience is one I think every group needs to have, because it left an imprint on my heart. It helped me realize that all the years I spent wishing I had good friends in high school were only being saved for now.
So the sun will rise tomorrow and so will I. My friends and I will change like the morning sky, growing and maturing. So go watch the sunrise or the sunset- say goodbye or hello to the day and embrace the new beginning. There’s always the opportunity to change and to grow, to rise like the morning sun and to embrace to encouraging, positive people in your life.
