When People Become Figments of Our Imagination
Like a star in the sky — musings on life for a rainy day.
My English teacher (who also happens to have a doctorate in philosophy) spent the last week of school matter-of-factly assuring us that this class and everyone in it would soon become a figment of our imagination.
A fact of life. People come and people go. Expectedly and unexpectedly.
A fact that has been weighing on my mind recently
This morning I was reorganizing my bookshelves to the steady cacophony of rain and stumbled upon a book — Astrophysics for People in a Hurry by Neil deGrasse Tyson.
It was a small book, tucked away alongside my other nonfiction and memoir-related novels. I hadn’t seen this book in a long time, much less remembered ever reading it. So I quickly flipped open the cover and gasped at the message written directly onto the first page, in blue ink.
“It’s been wonderful to watch you grow over the years, and I can’t wait to see you grow even more! Stick to your head because you have a beautiful mind.
May your curiosity never fade, for the light of knowledge will broaden your horizons.” ~ Leo
I don’t even remember how long ago the book was given to me. Maybe five or six years ago. Going to the art camp run by Leo’s mother had become an integral part of my summers for many, many years. I had become friends with her two sons, the older of which was named Leo, who gave me the book.
I remember parts of the moment. Leo handed me the book and said, “Maybe for when you’re older.”
And then that whole family moved to New York.
We promised to visit each other. But then, the pandemic brought the world to its knees and, in the process, shattered email-only relationships. I’m terrible at responding to emails, even though I obsessively organize and read my inbox. I’ve had far too many relationships end, right there, in my own inbox. And in my own unwillingness to the value in carving out the time needed to respond to them. I regret that now.
Before, there was an incredibly caring teacher from my third-grade year, Ms. P. She hugged and held me tightly during a school-wide lockdown when our school experienced a threat of gun violence. (Fortunately, nothing actually occurred, but the experience was still deeply traumatizing.) Even after I moved on from that school, I remained steadfast in my commitment to maintain contact with her.
Looking back at my back-and-forth emails with Ms. P. I cringe with the absolute (some might call it cuteness) that 9-year-old me put into emails. But can you imagine a 9-year-old keeping up an email correspondence?
Life moves fast as a young child under 10. Relationships change. Suddenly a year would go by in a blink. And that’s exactly what happened.
Talk soon and keep me updated when you’d like to get together with Mom for coffee!
Miss P. xo
That was the last email Ms. P. ever sent me. I’m sad to admit that I never responded. Another relationship lost to the inbox. I guess life got in the way. I mean, here I am 6 years later at 15 writing this article and pensively musing as the rain pounds on my window.
During our coffee meeting in 2018 (approximately a year before the last email), she provided my mother and I with a comprehensive explanation of her strategy to overcome her financial challenges. I gathered fragments of information about the hardships she faced in her life (as teaching is not well-paid in the U.S.) and her determined path toward a better future.
I often contemplate whether anyone looks back and thinks about me as much as I wonder what will become of them.
As my family ponders a move that would leave behind everyone and everything we have ever known, I value these relationships even more.
It makes me think about all the people who moved on in their lives — and subsequently moved out of mine — as I forged onward along my own.
I wish that I could have told each and every one of them good-bye — at least one final time.
But then again:
“No one ever says good-bye unless they want to see you again.” — John Green
So, good-bye for now,
~Aiden ❤️
I’ll take a page out of Vritant Kumar’s book and embed a Spotify song you should listen to after reading this.
Or if your that instrumental person (like me):
