Cornerstone Paper Pt. 1

We have to write a paper for our Cornerstone class about change. Luckily I've thought a lot about that subject. Here's what I wrote.

Prompt:• To what degree have your relationships begun changing—with parents and siblings, with a boyfriend or girlfriend, with friends back home?

It was on a car ride to a Dave Matthews concert that I understood the changing nature of relationships.

Most people's high school experience sucked. Mine, on the other hand, was one of the best times of my life. As a freshman, I developed deep relationships with upperclassmen, primarily ones in the grade above me. Attending a small private school allowed us to participate in multiple activities together, such as tennis, academic competitions, and even classes. I created relationships with people that I thought were going to remain in my life forever. I remember, during the summer after my freshman year, my group of friends held a water gun war that ended up with everyone jumping in the pool fully clothed. When I think of happiness, I picture those times. I didn't understand that it wouldn't last forever.

My freshman, sophomore, and junior years of high school kept me ignorantly blissful, because I was surrounded by a community of friends who loved being with each other. However, the end of my junior year brought graduation for most of my friends. This was okay with me, because the majority of them chose to go to college here at ACU. I thought life would go on as it had for the past three years, with us being as close as chocolate chips and cookie dough. It didn't. During their first semester, I heard that my friends weren't exclusively hanging out together, but meeting new people and creating new groups. I couldn't believe this. Why did they not want to be together? Why were they turning into different people? What happened? During my senior year, I witnessed vicariously through my friends how lives diverge. Charlie, the main character of the novel "The Perks of Being a Wallflower," communicated this divergence when he said "...things change. And friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody" (Chbosky).

My senior year ended. Summer came and went. And then I headed off to start school at ACU. Seven other kids from my high school chose to come to ACU as well, and several of them I had been really close with growing up. However, as the weeks have gone by here, we don't hang out. We only see each other sporadically, walking across campus, at chapel, or in the Bean. Our interactions are always heart-warming, as if we are still the people we used to be, even though we no longer are. I only considered this occurrence when I was driving to a Dave Matthews concert in Dallas with a friend, one of the guys from my old group in the grade above me.

It was really late, everything pitch black outside as the world rushed by our windows. It seems that times like that are when people allow themselves to be vulnerable with each other, when they are outside typical or expected situations. My friend and I were discussing his first year of college, and I admitted that it had hurt me that the group didn't hang out anymore. I assumed that they didn't like each other anymore and they were letting go of their past. He was understanding as we talked. Then, I suddenly related his experience to my own. I don't hang out with the people that came from my high school, but I that doesn't mean I hate them. I still consider them good friends. But our preferred activities, our living locations, our schedules have caused us to meet new people and thus, start living different lives. It's as though our high school made us do the same activities, but in college, we have the freedom to choose from exponentially more options. Nevertheless, my friends and I just drifted apart--there were no harsh words exchanged, no anger, just a gradual dissolve. We could go get lunch and have a great time. We just don't. It's the changing nature of relationships.

My mom speaks sometimes about a friend she had growing up. She said they would have the best times, that some of her greatest memories were when they were together. A few months ago, my mom said her friend was at a wedding she went to. I asked if she and her old friend talked, if they reconnected and spent the night chatting away. “No,” she said. I didn’t understand. “We haven’t seen each other in, oh, 10 years.” I could never understand what happened. Now I do.