Never Alone
Grew up speaking Spanish so in high school my mom made me sign up for French. I didn’t really care, but figured whatever at least it’s something new. I was a good kid, bit of a cut up with absolutely 0 direction.
In that class I met a girl and we sort of became friends. She got sick that year, cancer. It was horrible. Visited her in the hospital, got close to her family (still am), she passed the following year.
French, it turns out, was her favorite subject and her dream had been to study abroad. Her parents asked if we (her friends from that class) could do that for her.
The years went on, I worked every summer try to save up to study abroad. I noticed the others who had made the promise weren’t making moves towards it, so I worked even harder. Finally went for a semester my 3rd year.
To be honest I always enjoyed French, but it wasn’t a passion. Except that semester something kind of shifted. Came home, finished undergrad, then got into a masters in French. The whole time my friend’s mom is excited, feeling like my friend is somehow vicariously living through me.
I graduated from my masters and then moved back to France. Been here 3 years now, and May 1st was the 11th anniversary of my friend’s death.
As I type it out it’s not so outwardly obvious, but the entire time it’s been so clear for me that she’s been with me on this journey.
Story credit: Reddit / avocadopixels