It’s Friday. It’s the last Friday before everyone will be isolated in their homes for the next who-knows-how-long (an endless April, a burst of summer, and then December will be upon the world). Unable to tap someone on the shoulder, or catch their arm, or brush their hand. Some will keep in contact with little screens, trying and failing to diffuse awkwardness created by miles of distance and irritating audio feedback. Others, like you, will be as they always were — alone, or so you think.
It’s Friday, and the last person you would see is laughing with you in typical teenage self-deprecation fare as you two impulsively share a chocolate bar from the school vending machine. It’s good. Disgustingly good. You may regret this later when the weight you struggled so much to lose rounds your stomach and thighs again. When each day is just a repeat of escapism, a test of how much more delusion you can fabricate. When you sleep so much that your body’s melatonin swallows you in waves that threaten to drown you on land. But right now you do not regret which face you wave to at the front door, a recognizable figure slotting neatly into a car, and then away.
You two are history, or about to become history, yet every time you think it’s the final parting you collide, align, like stars. Naturally, deliberately. Again and again, there are the moments when you sit alone in the conversation, exhaling an unheard sigh. Thinking, “it’s finally happening now.” Fading in the crowd, the invisible friend, but suddenly you are alone with her and you’re children again. You understand each other.
It’s Friday, the last Friday, and you will not forget the friend you’ve known forever, the object of your resentment and envy, of your fondness and reconsideration, of time and reconciliation, and it’s a goodbye — or so you think.
Jennifer, I really appreciate and am amazed by the level of detail and emotion that you have incorporated into this blog. Each paragraph was so different but in the end you were able to wrap it all together to come under a common theme of what Friday means to you. I really felt the second paragraph where you stated “When each day is just a repeat of escapism, a test of how much more delusion you can fabricate. When you sleep so much that your body’s melatonin swallows you in waves that threaten to drown you on land.” I love the level of description and imagery that was incorporated into this. While reading this I felt as if you were going to talk about the last Friday before the pandemic but now I am curious to see if you are alluding to every Friday. Overall, this piece was really well written.
Hey Jennifer! Your blog really takes me back to March 14th (which I pretty vividly remember being the day that school got canceled for what we thought would be 2 weeks, as you said). But after the initial rejoice of an extra long spring break, it became clear that our break wasn’t a vacation. I really enjoyed the powerful language you used throughout the blog. It really helped me feel some of the sentiments during the quarantine again. I was one of those that tried to stay in touch with everyone online, but even then I realized that I stayed within the same building for days on end. I also really appreciate the complexity you write with. Your overall style is very intriguing and alluring. I wish to know more about that relationship you had, the goodbye, whether or not there was a true goodbye. I think in this time, when all of our grade is probably about to say a lot of goodbyes to each other, it’s important to consider how we approach this massive change so we can hopefully always remember each other. Again, very well written piece Jennifer, I really enjoyed reading all the thoughts you have to share!