Lauren Moore

Pieces of Nate

Comparisons between friends rarely crossed my mind until I entered college. I went to such a small high school that everyone knew everyone else and it made no sense to compare one friend to another, because either everyone had already noticed the similarity, or it wasn't true enough for anyone to notice. College, on the other hand, is a desert island.

Out of everyone I've met at college an overwhelming percentage of them remind me of my best friend, Nate. It seems I find him almost everywhere he's not. First day on campus I stumbled upon a guy who had borrowed Nate's denim blue eyes for the semester. Not only did this young man peer through Nate's eyes, but that same young man was also named Nathan. It took me a bit longer to discover this, but he also had the same middle name, James.

Not days later I tripped over Nate in the form of an unsuspecting freshman in my English class. He didn't wear Nate's eyes, or bear his name, but one day I heard him speak it was like Nate had grabbed control of this boy's vocal chords from 673 miles away. Sometimes he didn't remind me of Nate in any way, and then suddenly he was handing me a book and making some sort of overly-apologetic comment and the only person I could hear was Nate.

It's occurred to me, while making comparisons, that perhaps they are not as valid as I believe, and more of a desperate attempt to inject pieces of the past into pieces of the future. Yet regardless of where I find Nate, I often wish I felt bad about it. I wish I could stop trying to find old friends in new friends… just let friends be friends. I want to long for the day when Nate stops popping up in the humor of a freshman. But I don't long for that day, because once I start letting Nathan's be their own Nathan's and Freshmen be Freshmen, then I'll have to let Nate be Nate, and Nate is miles away.