“Here we go.” I let out a subtle sigh. As I look at the text that he just sent me I realize how inevitable one more fight is if I choose to reply. We miscommunicate often these days so I decide to wait for him here to speak in person. At our spot. Cheesy yes, but this has been our common ground since we were eight when our biggest problem with each other was trading fake Pokémon cards. I place my phone beside me on the green bench and I can’t help but realize how different this time is. He and I were so happy once. Recently I read a book called “This is How You Lose Her” where in the epigraph; Junot Diaz includes a quote by Sandra Cisneros that states

“Okay, we didn’t work, and all

memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.

But sometimes there were good times.

Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep

beside me and never dreamed afraid.

There should be stars for great wars

like ours.”

I find those words imprinted in my mind when I consider where we’ve been and how we’ve reached this limbo we find ourselves in now.

But this time I don’t feel that pressure in my gut, the one that radiates up into your throat and back down; putting so much force on your stomach your feel the need to poop. The one you feel when something overwhelming or disastrous happens. The one every melodramatic teenage girl feels every two point five seconds. I feel an eerie sense of peace. I don’t feel the need to listen to “the playlist”, the one with fifty-three songs I collected over the years in memory of him. With the lyrics that allow my mind to be free and speak my thoughts for me. I tune out for a second then I’m brought back to my surroundings by the Killers “All These Things That I’ve Done”. Fuck I remember how much you loved that song- stupid shuffle. The blaring fades as I take off the beats you brought me. The ones I was originally too ashamed to wear outside because they looked enormous on my already extra-large head.

I look around as the breeze intensifies. The pond in front of me has a bright green layer of pollen on top of it. The leaves on the trees are shades of greens, reds and yellows foretelling the change of seasons is about to commence. There’s an overcast and I begin to pray the rain is delayed an hour or so. The weather is so fitting for today.

I see him enter the 106th street entrance of Central Park. When I’m finally able to focus on him I take a good look at his face. He’s lost the innocence that once filled his cheeks. I’m taken back to the first day we decided to try the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing, a union set up by my half-sisters who at the time were convinced we were made for each other. I recall him wearing a Minnesota Timberwolves fitted with a matching cobalt t-shirt three times his size. He’s wearing khakis now, with a white button downed shirt and dress shoes and I can’t help but appreciate that age is becoming of him. His face suddenly changes when his eyes meet mine and scenes from our adolescents leave me. He sits beside me and stares at the pond I observed moments before he came. His small talk is stiff and I quickly zone out to the summer we spent together. After spending the whole night on the phone he’d make the three block trip to my apartment from his grandmothers and we’d cook breakfast. At fourteen we had planned out our whole lives. Where we would buy our first home and what we would name our children. Until today it seemed like we had shared a lifetime together knowing each other better than we’d ever admit.

He grabs my hand but my reflex breaks his grasp on me. I can’t let him find any opening to the comfort and security the years of familiarity have allowed us to share. He mentions how long I’ve been with my boyfriend and I take it as a gesture of reconciliation to his adversary. My silence offers my position in return. It is then that he discloses how he is ready to propose to his girlfriend. I smile sweetly as I absorb all I have ever admired about him. The sadness of faded memories between him and I diminish and somehow or another I escape the obscurity of all that is him. The fog of his affection and warmth leaves my mind I’m left with so much clarity despite feeling like I’ve shared a lifetime with him.

Diali Montalvo

The concept of fear does not resonate as an adolescent because we are not fully aware of what it is to lose something. When you’re young, like many can relate, you lack a sense of appreciation not because you weren’t taught too but rather you have not had a chance to experience it. It is instilled in us that youth is priceless and to enjoy it while we can before becoming one of the envious adults who offers this advice.

Finishing high school, my friends and I were overwhelmingly excited to begin what would be the most thrilling years of our lives otherwise known as college. For the summer of 2009, we’d spent almost every weekend over each other’s houses dancing and drinking Devil’s Springs because at 18 with no jobs, no form of income and no appreciation of our livers, it was the cheapest, most appropriate way of ensuring a good time. When we weren’t at someone’s house we were in my friend Greg’s van, which would become known as the “bang bus”. I’m sure my guy friends came up with that name for some unseemly, immature boy reason but nobody bothered to ask. We would park somewhere and blast music, sit around discussing how fun the dorm experience would be, who would gain the freshman 15 and the many experiences we’d face naively thinking none would come with consequences. Many of us being the first generation of kids to go off to college were praised for our academic achievements thus far and were sent with blessings to embark on the next chapter of our lives. We were ready to leave behind the traditional values our parents instilled in us and be free of limitations like curfew and chores.

Some of my friends had decided to go to Syracuse while others felt Stony Brook was right for them. My best friend at the time and a couple of others decided on Albany and then there were a few who thought staying in the city would be the better college experience. Then there was me, who decided that going all the way to Morrisville State College was the best chance of actually being liberated and free to enjoy the best years of my youth. I had no reservations about leaving my comfort zone and didn’t hesitate to leave my love ones behind. I was enthusiastic about getting an opportunity to be in an unfamiliar environment and meet individuals from various walks of life.

I had not thought of how all the factors of being far from home would affect me especially finding myself on a campus in a small town that consisted of mainly hills, horses, and massive amount of fog. I found myself sharing a dorm with a roommate who had an uncanny way of sharing all her intimate secrets with me and seem to be completely unaware of how she always overstepped my personal space. At first I wasn’t social but eventually I found people from back home that I could relate too and because they enjoyed certain recreational activities that came “highly” recommended, I found myself with a new hobby. My classes were pretty interesting but didn’t pose as a factor to my fun time although the work load was quite different from what I was use to in high school.

Every now and then I would venture off to my friends campuses and noticed how much they were beginning to change. Natalie had developed a high tolerance for drinking and Nate became the campus pharmacist. It was odd to see how different my friends were around these unfamiliar social circles made up of people who came to college to pursue the same experience we wanted. More often than I could afford, I would make the six hour bus trip back home for that comfort Morrisville lacked. Being away, I had developed a fascination with piercings and because there wasn’t much more to do when I didn’t have class, I would find myself at the tattoo parlor with my friend Jen Bunny getting piercings we’d find on Google during our hour long lecture of child psychology. Each trip home, my mother’s reaction to my ways of expressing myself went from anger to sadness but I’d comfort her by reassuring her nothing was permanent. When my friends were home we’d all meet up to talk about our diverse encounters away trying to one up each other on how much better our schools were. Despite being in different places there was something gratifying about still being as close as were even though we’d each had chosen different directions.

After finishing finals week I returned to the city to begin summer break. My parents were highly displeased with me being on academic probation and were concerned with my seriousness for my studies or lack of. Truth was my worries on my actual school work were limited and in fact the entire year I didn’t think to include my academics in my experience away as a priority. I didn’t consider the amount of money my parents had taken in loans so I, unlike many, could have the privilege of furthering my education. Looking back I’d like to think I was never that selfish but unfortunately my main concern then was searching for a dress and pair of shoes for my friends’ birthday.

The twins Maria and Mel were celebrating their 19th birthday at what was once a church known for its unholy events. All my friends were going aside from Greg, who had been celebrating his cousin’s high school graduation from earlier that day. At 12:00 a.m. on June 26th, we sang happy birthday to the twins and enjoyed the rest of their party for the next couple of hours. We returned to Erick’s house to converse about all the fun we had and how we planned on meeting that night to continue the celebration for completing our first year as college students. As the sun came up, my friend Carlos and I shared a cab and talked about where we wanted to go later on that day after resting. I reminded him to invite Greg and when I finally reached home I made a point to silent my phone so I can rest peacefully.

Two hours later I woke up for no apparent reason and like most teenagers, I looked at my phone. I stared at the screen confused as to why everyone I had been with a few hours ago had called me numerous times. My first call was to Natalie and like many conversations I had had with her before she prepared me for what was to come as if everything she always had to inform me of was an epic climax of some sort of suspenseful movie. I assumed it was some juicy gossip, something she witnessed at the party. She stated “Greg was in an accident”, then rephrased her statement too “Greg and his cousin passed away”.

I remember going deaf, not being able to hear my dad watering the plants through my window or my dog barking outside my door like he usually does when his water bowl is empty. Sounds that were so clear moments before suddenly faded out and all I could hear was the thump of my heart blocking out Natalie’s voice. After washing my face and getting dressed, I waited for Carlos to meet me on my block so we can go meet our other friends. Before making the trip uptown we held each other and cried. When we met with the others we walked the Greg’s parents’ house where we went inside to offer our condolences. In the living room were Greg’s mother and aunt, both sisters who had lost their sons, sobbing. Over the next few hours I endured the most sadness I had ever experience and began to only imagine what his family had been going through. When the funeral came I looked around to see several young adults mourn the loss of our friends and discuss memorable moments and what Greg and his cousin meant to them.

The passing of Greg and his cousin impacted many in multiple ways, myself included and for the first time I knew what fear was. I became fearful of the not appreciating my youth, not because of aging but not being blessed to age. I became fearful of not being appreciative of the opportunities that I had thus far but from this new found fear I did learn appreciation. I suddenly realized that although I made a point to have fun an enjoy myself I didn’t understand the concept of appreciation and how quickly a moment can pass or be taken away. I began to assess the past year’s events all that I hadn’t cherish. I was remorseful for not showing my gratitude for my parents. All the sacrifices they had ever made for me and not taking the most important part of college, my education, seriously. Ultimately, I realized how I could have made more of that year though it took such an unfortunate loss to make that evident. I found myself wondering about all those adults who up until then, I considered envious. Perhaps part of their advisements is because it wasn’t until later on in life they discovered the value of appreciation. Maybe they simply offer their kind words of wisdom so someone like myself, wouldn’t have to regret not appreciating all aspects of being young and not making the most out it.