Entangled roots

I unhooked Luna’s leash, and the Irish setter bounded off immediately, releasing pent up energy and enjoying the freedom of no leash in a large space of earth and shrubbery. I stood at the edge of the clearing with my hands in my pockets, having to lift my heavy coat to reach my pockets, back facing a frosty forest of trees as I watched the canine in the early spring cold.

It looked the same as it did three years ago. Exactly the same. Not even the birds flying in the sky above had changed: still the same-looking pigeons in the same formation.

An expanse of land, flat earth cleared to make space for adventurous campers - like me and my friends precisely three years ago. Our last weekend together was spent here, in this very campsite. I found it hard to believe that it was only three years ago. It felt like a lifetime since all five of us sat around a blazing fire in the middle of the night, telling stories of the years we had grew up together before Sebastian, Katherine and Andre left in the following week.

We had grown up entwined, happy and strong together, but it was only months after their leaving that phone calls became significantly shorter and infinitely more awkward, before they ceased altogether.

It was a stark contrast from my memory of that camping trip.

The moon was bright that night. No stars - just a pearly-white illuminated full circle up against the pitch-black of the night sky, met by the soft plumes of smoke stretching high from the fire at the centre of the circle formed by my friends.

Laughs had drifted up into the night, as if the blackness was able to capture the distinct blend of those laughs hold the memory forever - keep it safe for when we parted and forgot each other. That time was close. As close as the following week.

In all of the seven years we had been together, grew up in each others’ company, it had never occurred to me that one day we would all have to split up and find our way through the world without each other. That thought simply does not cross one’s mind when sitting in the car at McDonald’s Drive Thru.

Yet sitting in front of the fire, my face turned to the darkness above, as though it would somehow give me the comfort I need, I thought about it hard and clear not for the first time since hearing the news of their departures. That Katherine, who was busy telling a story that was making Sebastian flush as bright and red as her blazing hair, was packed and ready to for her flight to Qatar in two days; she had not booked a return… and would not for a few years.

More laughter rang out into the night air, and I recognised the loud snort of Andre’s guffaw as rocked uncontrollably in an attempt to handle his amusement. I had known him for the longest time; he was a brother and a friend, and it had been my duty to be happy for him going to Oxford University. But a selfish part of me wished he would stay in this small town with me instead of four years away - even if it limited his prospects.

Sebastian too was moving south, to live with his mother. I had only known him for four years when he had moved here to live with his dad, but we had connected instantly and a strong friendship bond had clicked with it. My mind raced through memories of parties and days spent in his basement which he had converted into some sort of den. The last few days, it had been full of boxes ready to be loaded into the moving van in three days.

One final summer weekend together. Then it was Emily and I left behind in our hometown. I wish I could say I was feeling thankful for that, but in truth, I felt as if she was leaving too: while we were good friends and felt comfortable with each other, our relationship had never been as strong as with the others, and I had a strong feeling that we would be quick to drift apart.

I was right.

When I returned my gaze to the crackling fire to note that Emmy had extended a stick of perfectly toasted marshmallow, I had also seen Andre glance at me, his eyes knowing, comforting, not in assurance but the shared feeling of sadness.

Then Kat had cut in, telling us to “stop making googly eyes because the bromance was making her food come back up.” She tossed her red curls back in a loud laugh at our indignant reactions. She had always been a boisterous interrupting teaser. But she was not afraid to speak her mind no matter the subject or audience. It often got her into trouble but it was also an admirable trait - one that got her an amazing job in another country.

At that point, Seb and Emmy took it upon themselves to start telling each story starring Andre and me. Kat even pulled up videos on her phone of drunken stupors and wild adventures. The rest of that night was spent laughing and drinking and recounting memories.

If I thought hard enough, I remembered that we had only ever talked about happy memories, never bringing up anything that might have broken the flow of laughter. We had even stopped Seb drinking because none of us had wanted to deal with a miserable drunk. Maybe it was my biased reflection on the past, but it had all felt forced, as though we knew our friendship was not strong enough to last and so we wanted our last moment to be the best moment.

I felt a presence behind me as I released the ball and watched Luna run to fetch it.

“It looks the same as it did years ago, doesn’t it?” I said without looking back.

“I wouldn’t know,” she answered, “I only moved here nine months ago.”

Nine months ago. I had lost contact with friends of seven years in less time, yet after seven months of knowing Sarah, I was comfortable enough with her and trusted her enough to call her my girlfriend.

She moved to stand next to me and peered up to look at my face.

“Oh, come on, Luke!” Sarah exclaimed. “Why do you look so miserable? Luna’s birthday! Its a happy day, remember?”

I angled away slightly, not wanting to let her see me being oddly nostalgic and… sad. I was sad. After three years, I still could not help wanting things to have stayed the same.

I shrugged.

“Yeah, I remember,” I replied, watching my breath smoke in front of me. “I remember. Sometimes too much, you know?”

I paused to glance at her quickly. She just tilted her head to the side in curiosity, but said nothing, so I continued.

“I spent the last summer with my old friends here before we split up and grew apart. We made a camp fire right there,” I pointed to a spot to my right, “and pitched the tents up there,” I pointed to a space to my left, “and spent the whole night talking. A squirrel came and slept in one of the sleeping bags.”

“Do you miss them?” Sarah asked, looking up at me again.

I sighed. Did I miss them? I did not know; if I did, I would think of them most times, but I did not. They were just a memory, one that I was glad for, but I do not think I would be particularly upset if I forgot.

Seven years was a long time, and that time helped to make me who I am today. But I developed more as person after that, so I was no longer the same person, and that person does not think he would care as much for the same people as he once did.

I looked back at Luna - my dog and friend for two years - and then at Sarah, who was standing beside me, emerald eyes bright, waiting for my reply.

Her auburn curls were beginning to escape from the hold of her white wool hat and she rubbed her hands together in a futile attempt to generate heat against the harsh cold. her cheeks were tinged pink, as she jiggled on her feet like a child to keep warm under layers of wool.

I let out a huff of laughter and turned to pull her closer to me in an embrace that was sure to warm her more than rubbing her hands and she leaned on me slightly as she rested her head inches under my chin and I tried not to laugh at her height - I had gotten too many glares for that. Instead I leaned into her slightly and tightened my arms around her slightly, wanting to keep her close.

“No, I don’t miss them,” I finally replied, “I’m happy I got to know them and that they had a part in my life, but no, I don’t miss them.”

Because even if old friends were no longer here, I had met new people… people who made me happy.