“I think you need to hang out with friends more. The kids from class 2-I got together. At a friend’s house—” he mentioned the name of one of our classmates, “—it was fun, you know.”

I didn’t respond. Right, left, right, left.

That morning, two old school friends and I were doing a simple morning jog around a few blocks in the southern part of Göttingen. We mixed in some brisk walking, then back to a light jog, something like that. It had been a while since I’d seen them like this.

“Did you purposely not show up?” he asked with a grin. “Oh, why am I judging you? Sorry…” Of course, I knew he was just joking. We’ve known each other for over a decade as close friends, so we were used to talking openly about many things.

“It was fun for other people,” I replied. “I wasn’t invited.”

What I knew was that a while back, our high school classmates had a small reunion. I didn’t know exactly when or how many people came, and honestly, it wasn’t entirely my business.

I can’t remember if there were any more comments after that. What I recall is that I just kept running, and when I realized it, I stopped near an intersection and found my friends quite a distance behind me.

The trees and green grass swayed in the wind. I felt my breath quickening. My hair was a bit damp.

.

I guess I haven’t told you this, so here it is. The friends I met—we were all in the same grade back in high school. One was in my class in the second year, and the other was in the first, but we all knew each other well. After college, we each started working, but we still kept in touch for years.

“Let us help you, okay? We’re waiting for you.”

That’s what I remembered from a few days ago. We were chatting on the phone, mostly about how I was doing after everything that happened last year. I mentioned that I felt a bit reluctant, and even though I was generally okay, I hadn’t wanted to do much lately.

That led me to those words.

Sometimes you need to push yourself for the things you need, she said. I understood that. So in the end, I decided to accept her invitation.

Maybe it’s a woman’s intuition. With a little push that might be necessary after all.

.

After jogging a few kilometers, mixing in some brisk walking, the sun was getting higher, so we returned to where we started. Paving stones and grass, blue sky and thin white clouds. We were in the parking lot. The weather was nice.

“I remember riding in your car,” I said to my male friend. “But it seems different now.”

“When? Before the pandemic? It’s been six years.” he replied, laughing.

“It should have been last year. We met up and walked. I got off at Weende. I got off behind the hospital—”

Near the ICU and the chemo unit—uh.

“—but I guess I was wrong,” I interrupted, laughing, “too many things on my mind, my memory’s a bit shaky. Sorry.”

“So what do you guys want to eat?” my female friend chimed in, “There are places around here—” she listed a few, “—so we can just look for whatever’s on promo.”

I remember saying “anything’s fine” (not a very helpful answer), so I casually suggested a nice place where we could chat and have a light breakfast.

.

“I don’t feel connected to my time at that school,” I said as we sat down to relax. “Besides a few people—like you two—I don’t identify with my past there.”

“There are others too,” my female friend chimed in, naming a few. I responded with a quick “that’s true.”

“It’s pretty much the same as that other place.” I continued, “I learned a lot there, I’m grateful for that, I won’t deny it, but I don’t identify with my past there.”

“Because of what happened? I think that was an extraordinary situation. No one was unaffected. Especially in that industry. Many good people I know went through it too. It’s not just you.”

“Maybe. Could be. I don’t know.”

“But anyway,” I said, “going back to what you said earlier. ‘The kids from class two met up the other day.’ ‘It was fun, you know.’ What I think is, ‘I don’t have a place there.’ ‘It was fun, sure. For other people.’ Maybe I sound jaded, but it’s not something I don’t understand. That’s just how it is, right?”

We talked about a lot of other things after that. About what I experienced last year, careers and family, and a few personal things from each of us since the last time we had this kind of chat.

.

“But it seems like you’re a bit happier than the last time,” she said. “Well, that’s good.”

I don’t know how she figured that out. Maybe it’s a woman’s intuition. Again.

“Maybe,” I replied, “but is that really true?”

At that moment, we were in a convenience store. I wasn’t shopping, nor was she, so we were just waiting for our friend. I noticed some stacks of bread and syrup on the shelf nearby. The sound of the receipt printer and the occasional noise from the ATM users coming and going.

“I heard a song yesterday,” I said. “James Morrison’s ‘Wonderful World’—and I thought, damn, it really hit home. I know there are good things in the world, but for me, maybe they just aren’t visible right now. I don’t know how good or bad that is.”

“Something like, ‘Well, I know that it’s a wonderful world, but I can’t feel it right now!'” Even though when I tried to mimic it with a raspy voice like the original, it sounded way off, “Sorry about that. But that’s pretty much it.”

She just laughed. A little while later, the three of us were outside again. It was getting later in the morning. When I looked up at the sky, it was a bright blue. Thin white clouds hung like cotton.

.

We parted ways a few minutes later in the parking lot. They had other plans after that (“Okay, we’ll head out first. Let’s chat again sometime. Stay healthy!”), so I just went on my own. As usual, as it should be.

The bus stop in the distance. Cars in the parking lot. A few people passing by. Motorcycles turning the corner and disappearing from view. As I walked, I looked around at my surroundings.

Green grass. Gray paving stones. Blue sky. White clouds.

… It really is a beautiful world.

Even though I can’t see it right now. Maybe later.