Reaching out across the sea

Shim Jian

The author is a student at Branksome Hall Asia in Jeju.

On my last night in Seoul, I slept on the floor of my closest friend Rose’s living room during a pajama party. We laughed, played games, and talked about random things such as “How many holes are there in a straw?” While playing Roblox, we built a boat and tried to survive a tsunami, and kept laughing when the boat crashed.

At that time, I didn’t fully understand what moving to Jeju would mean. I was only six years old. I knew my family was going to Jeju, but I did not know we were going to live there or how much my everyday life would change.

Before I left Rose’s house to go to the airport, I only said, “Bye!” I thought I’d come back soon. I didn’t think I needed to say a serious farewell, and hug everyone or tell Rose how much I would miss her.

A few days later, I wanted to meet my friend again. But Seoul was far away now. Getting back to Rose meant taking a plane. I couldn’t just walk over to her house after school. For the first time, I realized that moving away was not like going on vacation. My old life in Seoul was still happening, but I was no longer there.

I went to my new room in Jeju and looked at a photo of Rose and me in a small pond in the mountains. We were both splashing and smiling at the camera. Being together used to be so easy, I thought. Would we be able to remain friends? Or would I lose her?

At first, Rose and I texted and called often. We talked about the differences between Seoul and Jeju and told each other what was happening in our lives. However, as time passed, our conversations became less frequent. Our lives had simply become different. We had other things to focus on. We were drifting apart.

I realized that if we were going to remain friends, it would take a special effort. When Rose told me about her new friends, I tried to memorize their hair color, the types of clothing they wore, and even what they liked to eat, though I would never meet any of them. But it gave us something to talk about.

I started sharing photos of my science project and other things that happened at school. One day, Rose was watching baseball and said she was into it, so we talked about baseball while I did my English homework. We started playing an online game called Fruit Merge where we competed to make the biggest possible fruit. Really, it didn’t matter so much what we did or talked about – just that we made the effort to keep in touch.

Moving away taught me that long-distance friendships require this sort of special effort. Before, Rose was just part of my normal routine, someone who was always right in front of me. After moving, she never was. Staying close meant reaching out again and again. If you want to keep a friend who lives far away, you have to find a way to hold on to them.

When I went back to Seoul for a weekend and finally saw Rose again, we went to the mall, ate tteokbokki, and watched a movie. These activities were simple, but they felt special because we could not do them whenever we wanted. The movie was more entertaining than usual, the tteokbokki tasted sweeter, and the mall had prettier things.

At first, I was worried that our friendship would disappear. However, when we meet in person, she is still the same funny and caring friend I remember. Moving away changed my friendship with Rose, but it did not end it. True friendship can stay strong even when people live far apart.