photograph: Pinterest

The first time I said goodbye to my best friend I sobbed, now we tip our hats and move on. Saying goodbye isn’t so hard when I know, just like family, she is only a plane away and will always be there for me. This is for the hometown heroes—the friends that turned into family.

Dear Reader,

When I said goodbye to my best friend on her first day of college I balled my eyes out. We both did. We sat on a ledge at Steven Institute of Technology, with dozens of other sobbing families walking by us, and we hugged and cried. We thought it would never get easier and our lives would never be the same.

Now, only a year and a half later, we tip fake top hats, say, “See you in two months,” and move along. I get on a train to Boston, and instead of counting all the reasons why I hate the city, I count the number of people who wave at me from the beaches in Rhode Island.

I thought that saying goodbye this many times would kill me, but now it’s a part of our relationship. She went from my best friend to my “hometown” best friend and now, to my family friend.

In August of 2022, I thought it impossible to find other people to tell my secrets or all the trivial events in my day-to-day to. Now, I have friends I’ve traveled the world with, revealed my darkest secrets to, and regularly imagined a future with. I’m getting an apartment with the random girl I found on Instagram when I was 18, and the idea of New Jersey going from home to where I grew up doesn’t seem so far away.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that for the rest of our lives, my best friend and I will live in different cities, probably even different states. Instead of sending me into a depressive spiral, I’m excited imagining all the future surprise visits, moves, and holidays spent in each other's company. I thought our friendship was so strong we needed to be in close vicinity at all times, but now I know that its strength lies in our ability to be hundreds of miles apart.

Moving away made me realize that what we have is more than a best friendship– it’s a familial connection. Our future spouses will think of us as sisters, we will confuse future generations by calling each other “cousin” or making them call us “aunt ____”, and every Christmas when she and her brother make their favorite cookie I will be right next to them making mine.

Whenever we tell adults we met in high school, they tell us they don’t talk to any of their friends from then. They say our friendship won’t last. The people telling us this are usually one of our aunts, older cousins, or random godparents at an extended family dinner for the other’s family. We think to ourselves that the annual seat that’s saved for the other, non-blood member is evidence that this might be different. That our friendship might be a little stronger than that one guy they can’t remember the name of but were super close with…they swear.

Although we were wrong about goodbye not getting easier, we were right that our lives would never be the same. We can’t call the other and be at their doorstep 5 minutes later, we can’t get ice cream together whenever the other is feeling sad, and we can’t sit next to each other on the couch without saying a word for upwards of five hours—satisfied only by our physical closeness. These are all memories, and now our memories will be limited to sporadic visits and holiday celebrations. We will make new memories with new everyday friends and call each other to talk about them. This is the reality of growing up. A reality I used to dread but learned to love.

Love,

Isabella

Hometown Heroes

photograph: Pinterest