The Four of Us

A photograph.

A single, slightly-brown photograph.

A memory of a day, an era, a period of time in my life that my mind always goes back to when I daydream of the past.

There we were.

The four of us.

Best of friends. Smiling and laughing in our youth. Together. As close and connected as four separate people could be. So happy and full of life, we were.

That summer of ’92 was amazing.

Dinners and beaches and parties and late night movies with popcorn and homemade brownies that filled the air with a distinct sweetness that only homemade brownies could.

Afternoons would turn to evenings which would turn to late-night, early-morning why-go-to-bed-it’s-only-4am experiences.

Looking at the photo in the album that gathers dust in my closet feels like going back to a simpler time, as clichéd as that sounds.

We were young, so young.

Sure we had part time jobs, always-on-the-verge-of-empty bank accounts and a slowly increasing amount of responsibilities as we bravely crossed the threshold into adulthood, but, at heart, we were young.

The soundtrack of that summer still plays in my head today; while I shower or run in the woods or close my eyes and take a much-needed break from the grind.

That summer felt like it would never end. Our time together seemed infinite. We’d forever be as close as we are now, we thought, taking time and closeness and youth for granted, as young people always do.

Sheer pleasure in the a-little-too-glossy shot that is found in many of the photos from the 90s. The four of us as one.

None of us could have predicted or guessed that it would all end so quickly. How could it? We were so tight.

But, as summer turned to fall, one travelled, another fell in love and promptly disappeared, and a third got accepted to some program studying something halfway across the country.

Only I remained.

We’d get together, connect again, recapture this special thing we all shared and soon, we all told each other.

It sounded so good at the time.

We believed it when we said it.

But everything changed, as it invariably does.

All I have from this incredible time in our lives is this photograph. The photograph speaks thousands of words about back in the day when the four of us were together.

This old photograph never fails to bring both a wistful smile as well as taking me close to the edge of tears, but not quite.

I miss that time.

I miss those days.

I miss them.

The four of us.