Daily Journal Entry #4

Looking at her across the table, I can’t help but think she hasn’t changed one bit since the last time I saw her, since the last few years that I’ve known her, since the fifth grade. Her unremarkable dark blonde hair hangs past her shoulders by three inches - never four, because that would be tacky - and her big brown eyes are clouded with an air of insecurity. Her paisley-print top looks like it’s straight out of a third-grade teacher’s closet, and her stiff jean skirt hangs to the tops of her knees, legs crossed at the ankles. I ask her about her trip to Europe; her lackluster appraisal of the study abroad program and the general economy of Europe reveal nothing about what she did there, what she experienced, what she learned. I ask her what she discovered about herself while she was there - I’ve been told that you often find yourself when you’re traveling. Her brow furrows, creating this small indentation between her eyebrows, the same confused look she’s had since she was ten. She’s not sure, she says, what she learned about herself, but she did learn an awful lot about the European culture. Always deflecting, I notice, I have noticed, I’ve been noticing since the fifth grade. She reflects that she’s happy that she studied abroad, that she can say she finally did it, that it’s something to tell other people. I mention I’ve been accepted to study in London. Her face sours like a carton of old milk. She changes the subject.