Edit Desk: When they want to, but they can’t

Over spring break, I spent my 20th birthday with my family in New York. 

Since it’s the Muslim month of Ramadan, and I have been fasting, I didn’t want a big celebration — cheesecake and two pints of my favorite Ben and Jerry’s flavors was enough. I spent my day watching “The Truman Show,” indulging in ice cream and relaxing — doing exactly what I wanted.

However, a hole remained in my heart for the entire day. I kept thinking about two of my cousins who I’m really close to, Anisha, who is six months older than me, and Suha, who is four months older. I reminisced about the birthdays I celebrated with them, looking at pictures of us together. 

I thought about my 18th birthday and how much I dreaded turning 18, not just because it meant becoming an adult, but because I loved the number 17 and wished to stay 17 forever. 

But after talking about being 18 with my cousins and all the excitement we shared surrounding it — that Common Sense Media age ratings wouldn’t apply to us anymore, that we’d be able to legally drink alcohol in Britain and that we were becoming truly independent, maybe not in our South-Asian households, but we ignored that — the step felt a lot easier to take. 

Our conversations made me feel 18 long before my birthday.

My 20th birthday, however, felt sudden. I realized that I had not discussed getting older with them this birthday and that those conversations we had every time the three of us got together had been unknowingly preparing me to embrace the next stage of life. 

It was always easy for me to grow older, because they’ve always taken that step before me. This explains why I felt unprepared this time.

Even though there are 7,870 miles between us, I could have kept in contact with them over call or text, but I didn’t. In fact, I haven’t texted or called them since I started college.

The Instagram Reels Suha sends me keep piling up, and so do both of my cousins’ texts, but I rarely find the time to reply. I haven’t FaceTimed them since winter break. I leave their DMs unopened for at least a week, if not more.

Given my actions, anyone could fairly assume that I don’t miss them. But in reality, I think of them every day.

Eating ramen brings me back to all the times we ate it together while watching an episode of “Friends” or a horror movie. Listening to K-pop inevitably reminds me of their obsession with BTS. Sometimes, I think about the hours we spent together doing nothing – just laughing about frivolous things.

Life in itself felt a lot more frivolous back then. Now, amidst my busy schedule, when I do get time, I mostly want to lie down and watch “New Girl” or scroll through TikTok. I’m depleted of all of my energy, which is why I don’t end up calling my cousins whom I miss so dearly.

“If they wanted to, they would.”

I’ve come across this saying on TikTok many times, and, I must admit, I believed it at first. After all, actions can never lie, but people can. If somebody really means what they are saying, their actions must reflect that.

Yet, my actions fail to reflect how I feel all the time.

Now, I can try to explain why I do not call my cousins or text them despite missing them so often. I do often feel tired, and it’s true that I lead a busy lifestyle. However, I find time to call my parents, so maybe I should find the time to call them as well. 

Then again, my calls with my parents last about 10 minutes, and I could never recreate the magic of the typical conversations with my cousins in 10 minutes. I would need an hour at the very minimum.

I also mourn the physical closeness between us and believe that calling will not help ease the hole I feel in my heart. After all, I valued our conversations so much because they were so random, so unintentional and so spontaneous. Phone calls, though, are planned, and there’s pressure to always talk. I don’t know how to create comfortable silences over calls.

I could give many excuses as to why I don’t keep up with my cousins virtually despite missing them so often, but the truth is, from an outside perspective, the phrase “if they wanted to, they would” can be used to dismiss what I feel. After all, my actions don’t reflect how I feel.

But what if this is proof that sometimes people want to, but they’re scared or overthinking or just haven’t gotten the chance to?

I will FaceTime my cousins eventually, but because I call them so rarely, there is no evidence of how often I actually think of them. They will just have to take my word for it, and hopefully, they will.

So, maybe when it comes to loved ones, sometimes wanting to should be enough. I hope it is enough.