The next morning, as we prepared for our drive back home, we barely spoke a word. No words are needed following something as significant as the night before. This time, Adriana didn’t force me to carry her luggage. One thing was clear, none of us would ever be the same again, in ways somehow both profound and insignificant.
We drove most of the way home in understood, mutual silence, as well. Not in an awkward sort of way – but in a way usually reserved for the best of friends and married couples. At one point, we shared a rotisserie chicken we picked up at a market on our journey home.
When we finally arrived back home in the good old U.S. of A., we hugged one another goodbye to get back to our lives, determined that things were only going to get better. Little did we know at the time, but it the first and last time just the three of us ever hung out. It wasn’t due to awkwardness or lack of desire to hang out. It was simply time to move on to the next phase of our respective lives. Our friendship was like a comet meant for that place and time only. Some friendships aren’t meant to last beyond our need for them. Strangely, these are the friendships we often remember and cherish the most, which is why they remain alive inside us.