Feb 10, 2020
We sit at the top of the little hill, basking in the sun, golden for a moment. Our soft serve melts in our paper cups. Green grass pops in the sunlight.
Emma turns to Jonathan and, her lips parting softly, says, “I wish we didn’t have math tomorrow.”
Jonathan clutches his chest in mock disgust, sticking his tongue out into the sunlight and closing his eyes. “Disgusting!” He cries, and then returns to his ice cream.
I laugh. I love it when he does that. His red curls shine in the sun as he plunges into his ice cream, eating as if it is his last meal.
Emma looks again into the quiet wind. “I’ve been thinking about the end of school, the end of things, this chapter, and I’ve realized… I’m petrified to leave this moment in my life,” She sighs into the sky, “I don’t want this to be the past yet.”
“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees, putting his ice cream down and looking out solemnly.
“I don’t think I’ve appreciated the friendships I could have had as much as I should have,” She continues, eyelashes catching the light, “It’s crazy to think that I might never see some people again. My whole community is going to be different.”
“I hope it’s good,” Jonathan says. He takes a bite of chocolate.
Emma looks down and smiles, “Alright, I’m going in for soup.”
“Ooh me too,” Jonathan laughs, as he vigorously stirs his ice cream into a melting pot of cold embers.
We all laugh in the sun. The American dream of friendship. You can’t imagine this stuff, this kinship. I wonder at the future, what college will be like, what Boston will be like. Close to Chicago, so I’ll be able to see them. And so far away from home. So different from this little ridge in Montclair where I sit, eating ice cream on a Monday afternoon.