Emerging out of the convoluted, disorienting, syrupy haze of 7-day joint simultaneous weekend-weekdays cycles known as pandemic life under lockdown, one of the critical components of increased personal interaction I have been sorely equipped to deal with is meeting old friends for the first time since Mar. 2020, many of which I’ve since lost regular contact with. I’ve never been stellar at interacting with others, even people I’m close to, but the additional barrier of masks and the constant reminder of unanswered messages and abandoned chat logs stored conveniently in my pocket has caused my already-pitiful social skills to deteriorate further.

After all, few things can compare to the nigh-universal self-conscious, self-cringing embarrassment of passing by too close to someone you know well enough to acknowledge but not that well to outright greet or stop to converse with, and trying to decide how to approach—or not at all—them in the span of a few charged seconds. 

And yet, in spite of the awkward waves and stilted smiles and the classic pretend-to-not-notice meandering eyes, memories of old friends and past friendships remain a constant source of hope and comfort for tough times, for which I’m forever grateful:

To a friend I first met in elementary school, then drifted from in middle and high school, then reached out to again recently after a sudden incident: Thank you for being the first person I can consciously remember feeling close to. We’ve gone our separate ways now, some of the clearest memories I have of elementary school were of days when your charm and humor shone through. 

To middle school friends I bonded with in 5th period English, whom I drifted from and never contacted again after switching to a different learning environment: I can still recall our secret handshakes and inside jokes, and I can still vividly remember you saying that we needed to FaceTime every night so we could still stay close friends the day I told you that I was leaving the school. That never really worked out, I guess, but I never fail to feel grateful every time the good memories come flooding back whenever I happen to see you at the high school. 

To my former upperclassmen on the cross country and track teams, many who have since graduated: Thank you for supporting and guiding me through my rocky transition to high school. Coming from an isolated learning environment in middle school, after school and early morning practice with the team made the school day meaningful and served as a source of constant support for me, and I don’t think I would’ve made it through the school year without you supporting me during races and making me feel like I belonged.

For me, recalling faded friendships envelops me in a paradoxical hold; I can’t help but reminisce about the past and painful reminders of what could’ve beens had I tried harder to stay closer, but thinking about how we’ve all walked down different paths makes me ever-hopeful and excited for what the future holds. 

And above all, those bittersweet memories about friends and people have passed out of my conscious, day-to-day life evokes within me a greater appreciation for the present—for current friends and current people changing my life for the better.