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Goodbye Golden Years Pearl Lu | Digital High Freelance Writer It's 3:30 am, and I really should be getting home. Yet, something keeps me at my friend Ruth's house, this last day before she leaves for Berkeley. My eyelids droops, weighed down by the long weekend of good-byes and farewells, and challenged further by the lateness of the early morning. The waning moon beams soft white light off the glossy glint of her bedroom window, light that bounces back into the cold blackness. But it is warm in her room, and her younger sister sleeps peacefully on Ruth's bed, while she and I rummage around her room for more packable goods. In the meantime, we made conversation. We talked about our elementary schol years, our days in Chinese school being the most innocent-looking trouble makers in school. We talked about junior high, how we made friends and opened up. We talked about high school, about our friendships and betrayals, and dark secrets people had kept from each other these four years. All the unresolved conflicts, the old wounds, sad truths spilled out while we went through her things and tried to stuff a new cordless phone back into its original packaging. The Realization We laughed about stupid little things, about teachers and friends, about AOL and MP3s and the Internet and email. We touched upon sensitive gray zones we had left in the shadows all these years. And I guess somewhere between talking about how she had changed over these years and my crazy love life, I realized how close I was to her. For someone who doesn't consider herself to have many true, close friends, it was a disconcerting newsflash. Finally, here was someone I have grown up with and laughed and cried with and hugged and neglected and lost touch with and got together with and hung out with and cared about, who I could say in all honesty, was one of my few close friends. And she was leaving me in less than seven hours. "What was that about curfew again...?" It was 3:30 in the morning, and I was out way past my curfew. Ruth looked at her almost-full suitcase with tired eyes, then turned to me. "You really should go home, Pearl." I smiled weakly. "Yeah, you're right, I probably should. Sorry about staying so late." "Naah, don't worry about it. I just hope you don't get in too much trouble when you get home," she said with a wry grin. We crept downstairs to the door, careful not to wake her parents. We hugged, and said our "good-bye"s and "You better keep in touch!"s. And that was it. I drove home in the chilly dark night, shivering and trying as best as I could to keep warm while still steering straight during the short 10 minute drive home. But I was distracted, and while I did get home in one piece, I was in tatters inside. Sure, it wasn't like she was going to be all that far away -- an hour's ride on BART across the bay and I'm there! -- distance still makes a difference. She was still going away, far enough away that she won't really be a significant presence in my life anymore. Granted, there's the telephone and email, but it's just not the same. The Reality of Going Away And Ruth isn't the only person from whom I'll be separated. A few other friends are going to Berkeley too, while some are going to Davis, some to San Diego, and other UC's. My best friend is off to MIT. Another close friend is off to UPenn. And because I am the last to leave (UCLA is on quarter system, so it doesn't start until October 1), I will watch these people, who have been so critical to me and such important people in my life for the past decade, exit out of my daily consciousness. In a few weeks, this Fremont life will no longer be my reality. This will no longer be my world. And I'll never be able to live this life anymore. I guess the scariest part of going to college is leaving the familiar behind. I have established myself, in my world of SATs and high school teachers, of movie outings and bowling nights, of goofing off with friends at Jamba Juice, of listening to my father's lectures about life, of my sister's whining, and of my mother's "you should be a computer science major!" speeches. While going away is incredibly freeing, somehow, I'm realizing that the life I have right now isn't so bad... And for all those months when I've been eagerly willing to go away to college, the reality of "goodbye" is so steadily creeping in upon my naive consciousness. This is my security blanket, my home, and even though I know home will always leave the light on for me, it just will never be the same again. But then I think, maybe it's not so bad. Perhaps these people will be out of my life, but there are many other wonderful people out there to meet. All I can really do is be grateful that I'd had the pleasure of knowing them for the "golden years" of my existence. There is a big wide world open to me, and maybe it is time to move on, time to grow and change and quaff the sweet nectar of life and living. Even so, as I crawl into bed that night, my pillow is not dry. I will miss my friends. I will miss my family. I will miss high school, as bad a time as I had there. I will miss Fremont. And I will, to a certain degree, miss me. Digital High Special Issue - Back to School 1998 |