I had coffee tonight with a friend I have known for almost 30 years (holy crap, I am old). I haven’t seen this friend in over a year, talked to her in seven months, or communicated in any way in a long, long time … and I am okay with that.
I don’t like to backtrack much. I don’t feel the need to talk about the good ‘ole’ days or do things the way we used to. I don’t need to rebuild relationships with people I have lost touch with. Not because the memories are bad or I dislike the individuals with whom I was previously engaged, but because life is meant to ebb and flow like the tide. And as a stick thrown into a lake may make its way back to shore from which it was launched at some time, it may very well end up somewhere completely different. I neither want to wait in the original place for it, nor am I going to follow it where it goes. Its path is its own. Mine is where I take it. It is much the same with friendships; we move in and out, launch, return or float along to something else.
It was nice to get together and hear what has taken place in my friend’s life since we last spoke. But I don’t miss those conversations, or the time we hung out. It was fun, encouraging and a good place to be in those moments.
I remember when the mister and I first returned to our home city from the big smoke. I was so angry about returning, because it felt like a step backwards. That we returned because of new career opportunities rather than failure at what we had been doing didn’t seem to matter. It was backtracking. I am not angry anymore for we have moved on to a pretty good life on our own terms. I do occasionally think we missed out on the complete freedom of being someplace fresh.
The loss of particular friends or family or careers or hobbies or interests or whatever is the not the end of line, but the first step to something else. Rather than stop and wait for what can to catch up, we just keep moving forward in the direction of our choosing unencumbered by the baggage of what was and enjoying what will be.
… and good grief that all sounded ridiculously clichéd, but such is the rambling meanderer.
