It's interesting the thoughts that come upon you when you're alone... I often find myself reliving parts of the day, composing emails/letters (that I'll never send), or lists in my head. I redo stupid conversations and come up with witty retorts or remarks.
I was sweeping the floor tonight. Nothing more exciting than cleaning on a Saturday night by yourself and drinking a glass of two buck chuck (or three buck here). I found myself thinking of an old friend whom I haven't spoken to in a long while...almost a year? It wasn't as though we parted angry at each other... but uneasy with who we'd become in regards to each other. That's often the case with friends though. People grow and change. For a long time, we grew and our friendship stayed strong. But sometimes friendships can't survive the strain of personal problems or issues.
I know the breaking point in the friendship. That moment that...after it happens... you know. It suffered long before that though. I don't know if the fight was inevitable or not. I never will. I go over that day in my head a lot. Not the specific arguments or words, just the feelings. The remorse. The anger. At myself. At her. I knew she was in trouble. Just as I'm sure she knew I was battling with my own personal demons. She was able to help me, in her own way. And I feel as though I failed her as a friend.
I can't stop dreaming about her. In my dreams, sometimes the fight happened and sometimes not. Sometimes everything is as it was. Sometimes its some alternate universe. I know my mind is telling me that I miss her, that we have "unfinished" business with each other, and that I subconsciously (or maybe consciously) want to see and talk to her. But how do you bridge a gap that has grown so large you can't remember the last time you spoke...or saw each other...?
I don't know if I ever will be able to mend that bridge or this friendship. Some things don't last forever. Lots of friendships don't. It's a somewhat miserable thought... but it happens no matter anyone's intentions.
First rumblings, then a blow up, then a deep chasm, for two years not speaking a single word to my once best friend. Then one of us reached across, I don't recall which of us it was, and it really doesn't matter. The reach was returned and we're best friends again. Thirty-four years of deep friendship; two years of tightly closed chests. We speak of that time long ago, the night of the blow up. Neither of us can exactly remember what happened or what the fight was about. Isn't that wierd? My point? When the time is right, one of you will forgive and reach for the other.
ReplyDelete