It became clear to me that we’re all going to miss someone when we’re older, at that moment, in that conversation, at that time.

But, sometimes, it’s not the person we miss, but the times we spent with them, in those moments, in those conversations, at that time.

And so, I think of you.

And you. And them. And that group. Or the next.

I think of you.

I think of all the times we spent sitting out on the grass - warm sun on our backs - laughing at jokes told long ago. We would spend all of lunch listening to the wind and climbing trees and singing to the birds. We were never that good, but he was: that friend from way back when.

I think about conversations on swing sets and handball competitions; spending time under the trees, and looking at all the bugs we could find.

I think about sitting next to you in math. 8th grade. You were cute - my friend from way back when. We would race to see who would finish math homework first. I remember--

Or what about the time that we biked around the neighborhood? We walked all the way from school to your house. 5 miles we walked! You pushed me closer to the edge of the sidewalk so that a car-gone-rouge would hit me first. We would dance in the locker room - 7th grade - and complain about the ice water in our shoes - 8th.

I think of you.

Finally, I think back to sophomore year, because it always ends with you. You’re sitting behind me, whispering about war and love and how it was all intermixed. I knew I could never have your heart, but you had mine. I think of all the times we would talk about religion or track or family or God knows what. Your smile is burned into my memory, but your laugh is now far away in the mountains. I wish you missed me.

I think of you.

And you. And them. And that group. Or the next.

I think of you--

Because I know that when I’m old and grey and a long away from whatever home I’ve had, I’ll think of you; and those mountains we got lost in, and the wind, and singing.

Because you will all be gone. And so will I.

You know, my mama came into my room one night - long after you had all gone away - and she started telling me about this boy, and this summer, and this pool. All, and only, from her memory. It was so innocent. I don’t even think they kissed. But she had to go away - from that friend from way back when. So did he. His own mom warned him about her: her devilish smile and laughing eyes. He had to go to college, and my mama - well, she wasn’t going anywhere.

And so, they parted.

Years and different smiles, different eyes, and wrinkles now stretch between them. Yet, she remembered him. She remembered him when she was old and grey and a long away from home.

You see, sometimes it’s the wrong time, or the wrong place, or some other type of wrong. And, people don’t stay in your life - no matter how much you think they should. They can give all the happiness in the world, or all the anger, or sadness - no matter how much you need them, or want them, or miss them- they still don’t stay.

They will never know how much I cherished their friendship.

She will never know how hurt I was when she left.

And finally, He will never know how much I cared for him, how much I wish I would have told him that --

Some things just aren’t made to last.

And, sometimes, that’s okay.

Sometimes, people are simply meant to come and go - by some force of God, or Fate, or Chance. They will come and teach you how to sing to birds, and navigate through mountains, and listen to the wind. They will show you life and its beauty.

Because that is how it is supposed to be.

Some things just aren’t made to last.

When your old and grey and a long way from home, the birds and the mountains and the wind will be all you have left: those memories, those stories, those thoughts of “way back when”.

I will never see what these friends have become. Today, they are stuck in time and in memory. Just as they were when I last saw them: frozen with laughter.

And so, I smile.