I had friends, once upon a time. But, in a manner much resembling the process of continental drift, well, I think you get the point. And like the slow pace of geological movement, this process of "de-friending" has happened so gradually that until recently, I did not realize it had taken place. And even though it happens, there isn't a good enough excuse to justify it. The part I have played in this seems largely to be the result of the fact that I have not stayed in one place for a very long time. When I have managed to do so, it was in a state of isolation, and that doesn't work either. I try calling people to stay connected in some small way, but that doesn't seem to cut it. I call them. Not many in return. Makes me wonder since I've known some of them over 20 years. And then I start thinking, "why keep this up when it feels like it's turning into a one way street?" So, I eventually get a clue and stop. I cut them lose. If I hear from them again I will be glad. If I don't, I don't. I have come to believe that as a culture, we are losing the skills of being a friend to somebody. People move around, have surface relationships with each other, refuse to slow down long enough to have actual conversations of substance and healing grace; always looking over the shoulder of the person we are talking to (rarely with) in an attempt to get to that point in the future when our real life will start because the life we have now just ain't good enough. But what if there were no possibility of "advancement"?
What if the place you are now was to end up being your station in life until you take your last breath? The people you know now being the ones you would be living with until that last breath? Would that be something I could accept? I am glad to know that someday in the near future I will leave the place I am now, a place which I simply do not like. Period. But now I know some people here and I want to know them for the rest of my life, but I'll be moving again and I don't know that we will stay connected. Am I that important to them? Are they that important to me? Or are we just in another round of the temporary friend cycle that repeats what has happened before? I'm just tired of it , that's all I know. Almost too tired to care; almost. I can blame some of this on a hard, dark winter. I'm tired of winter and want to opt out of the ones to come, aside from skiing. I want to follow the warm weather and when December hits, I want to move to New Zealand for another round of summer while this dump gets dumped on once again. And while I'm there in the long New Zealand twilight, 78 degrees, hiking in the shadow of Mt. Cook, I promise to try to work up enough energy to call, e-mail, postcard...to remain friends with everyone who I have yet to shed from the friend list, or who haven't relegated my rolodex card to the cylindrical file under their desk. I'm willing to try.