“the beauty of another”

The following three-part post will be a guest post by my dear college friend, Amanda Hornick [if you missed it, read PART I here]. Hornick hails from Blue Springs, MO, and is one of the most magnetic and hilarious people I know to-date. And she always has a good story…

PART II

I was always the girl, at the end of summer camp, crying in her friends’ arms and making the other parents wonder what my folks did to me to make me hate home so much (I didn’t hate home, I just hated goodbyes, and also, the fact that this group of people would probably never all be together under the same roof in the same capacity again).  I met perhaps one of the most influential people of my post-collegiate career on a flight, and even went on a date with another fellow coach passenger (it didn’t work out; long story short, he had an affinity for death metal…). I’m the girl who strikes up a conversation with you in a park in middle America, and probably wonders if you ever had the courage to ask out the girl you’d been pining over since high school years after you’ve forgotten my name, or even our encounter. In a strange way, I must have been hardwired to passionately connect with people- not all people, I suppose, as I’ve known folks for years with whom I’ve never made it past “How was your weekend?” small talk- but passionately connect quickly with those who intrigue me, or within who I glimpse pieces of myself, or who I want to be.

Being the way I am, I also have a terrible time with goodbyes. There was a period, after a particularly tearful goodbye with a beautiful boy who let me rest my head on his shoulder during mountain sunsets and promised me love only until summer’s end, that walls were put up and adventures put on hold to prevent any future goodbyes from having to exist. A comfortable numbness settled upon me. But I missed feeling alive, and I missed highs and lows and everything in between, and most of all, I missed the feeling of finding a genuine appreciation for the beauty of another.

Last week, I heard from an old friend, and the news was upsetting. I choose not to delve deeply into her communication within this post because, quite frankly, the wound is still fresh and I haven’t completely found a way to speak about it without sounding bitter or disenchanted, and I love her too much to speak out of hurt for doing what she somehow feels is right. Her desire is to distance herself from me and our other childhood friends, not because (she says) she doesn’t love our memories together, but because she craves a life of simplicity and her numerous friendships burden her more than they bring her joy. She cannot keep up. And so she cut us loose- wishing, she wrote, every happiness in the world to each of us…

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2 Comments on ““the beauty of another”

  1. These past two days I’ve gotten upset when your posts stop; I don’t want to have to wait 24 hours for what you say next. Well done, Amanda :). I only hope my guest appearance is half as intriguing as yours.

  2. Pingback: “without reservation” « adventure, check yes

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