Ponyo My Old Friend - Emma Simmons

Ponyo My Old Friend

By Emma Simmons

One of my all time favorite movies is Ponyo, animated and directed by the amazing Studio Ghibli. Ghibli is known for its nostalgic and stunningly beautiful movies, and Ponyo has always been with me throughout my life. It follows the story of a Ponyo, a girl who falls in love with a boy, and she ends up sacrificing her magical powers just so she can be with him. One of my fondest memories was even when I was eating cheap ramen with my sister, sitting on her floor. Watching the story of a small fish girl fall in love. The main character in Ponyo is a little boy named Sasuke. Sasuke is naive but kind hearted and always has Ponyo’s well being at heart. Each time I see him, I think of my old friend Noah, an equally naive and kind boy. Upon reflection of my elementary school years, I think I might have been in love with him. But I was only 7 and couldn’t have possibly known anything about complex feelings. Noah was my best friend during the early stages of my life. I lived across from him, in a cushy middle class neighborhood, and we did everything together. We would roam the streets, playing with toy cars and Transformer action figures. I’m not sure if I actually liked playing with those toys. But I did like playing with Noah, so I indulged in his favorite games. Each day we would do what Noah wanted to do. I would push him in a wagon up and down hills, and we would dig through his mothers perfectly curated baskets of snacks for sweets that my mom would never buy for me. My only problem with Noah is that he never wanted to do what I wanted to do. I would want to play with dolls but he hated all things girly, so we played with toy trains instead. This was the most minor of incidents,

but the problems kept stacking up. It gradually grinded on me for years, reducing my already fledgling self confidence. Seven year old me was content to have her opinions swept away, but my parents acknowledged that this wasn’t the best relationship for a developing person to be in. As I moved through elementary school grades, I knew in my heart that real friends weren’t supposed to guilt trip each other or threaten to not be friends anymore. But I couldn’t leave him. He was my only friend. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, I didn’t get to choose whether or not he’d still be my friend. My dad told me that we were going to move on the last day of fourth grade. My family was going to Oregon, a place so foreign and strange, that I’m still surprised that my dad ever agreed to do it. Regardless, I was afraid of how I would tell Noah I was leaving. I feared that he would hate me, or that he’d cry, but I realized that it was for the best. I was insensitive and immature. On the last day of school, I met Noah on the playground during recess. As the bell rang to announce the end of play time, I faced Noah and said that I was moving. I then quickly turned my back on him and ran away. After that, I never saw Noah again. At the time I was heartbroken and devastated. I spent the beginning of the fifth grade year mourning my old friend, but as I’ve aged I realized that leaving was the best choice for me. If I never left, then I’d probably still be under his thumb, agonizing over following my heart or following him. Growing up is hard.