Road Work Ahead

When I look back over the last few years, a great deal of my favorite memories are all kept during the last week of my senior year of high school. During that week, our senior class had a tailgate breakfast in the school parking lot before school on our last day, and we also had "alternative modes of transportation day" where I rode my bike to school with about 20 other kids from a friend's house. (Which was surprisingly more difficult than I predicted.) I have fond memories of police stopping traffic to get us across Topeka Blvd, knowing this would be the only time I would ever ride my bike for any such distance.

These are two of my favorite pictures I have from graduation week. They display perfectly the carefree attitudes, the excitement about new beginnings, and most importantly, the closeness that our class always had. Another photo taken that day was this one: 

This photo would prove to mean more to me than I ever thought it would. Although that orange sign was probably one of thousands seen around Topeka during the summer (otherwise known as 'road work season'), that one now seems symbolic of the loss of a classmate and close friend we would face exactly a week and two days after this photo was taken. 

Tonight I had dinner with one of my best friends from high school. After that loss, we didn't talk much - it seemed as though no one, including my close friends in my same situation, knew how to handle the situation, or even each other. We went almost a year and a half into college without truly 'catching up.' In high school, we bonded over similar dislike of a certain teacher, homework we could only figure out together, and our Friday night bonfires at the lake or pickup games of baseball. Now, she was playing college soccer and I was at a larger university and involved in entirely different things. It seemed like the only thing we had in common was our grief, and there wasn't much to talk about. 

One night last summer she came over and we talked about all the things it seemed like we had missed out on over the last two years - the professors, dates, our favorite places to go out in our respective towns, new friends, living on our own, and a little bit of reminiscing here and there too. We talked, for the first time, about our own experiences with loss and how it affects us now.

Tonight at dinner, a passerby probably wouldn't have known whether we were juniors in college or juniors in high school - We ordered the same enchiladas with cheese sauce and split queso at the best Mexican restaurant in Topeka that neither of us had been to since senior year. After, we wandered around Wal-Mart just looking for trouble, and as usual, ended up playing with the toys instead. As usual, Mal drove and I manned the iPod. When we talk about school, Mal will always be better at math and science, but I'll probably always have to edit any paper she ever writes. As expected, she likes the math classes, and I'm going into the health field. As usual, both of us weren't bothered by the children running and screaming by our table in the restaurant but were ready to offer them some salsa instead. 

At a time in my life when I feel like things are changing faster than I can blink, I'm thankful for nights with a friend where it seems like nothing's changed - especially the fact that she will always be there to eat queso with me, give me advice, and remind me that no road work lasts forever.