Out of the blue, on a perfectly normal day, I was surprised to find a letter from an old friend. One with whom I hadn’t communicated with from some time. Actually, it has been months. And it revealed some unpleasant events.
First of all, in my own defense, I had started to write a letter to my wayward amie for her birthday. One I have signed, yet to seal and deliver. Procrastination. Yes, thy middle name is such. No other excuse, as I have plenty of time, and a stamp floating about.
Then there is the whole other shoe to drop. Long distant relationships are hard on those who want to do it. But, for friends who had fallings out, who have missed out on a small chunk of time, these really do fail. I had every intention to try to make it work. I, being the romantic I am, believe that forgiveness can work, can put a fresh coat of paint over the cracked and bumpy walls. I left behind a life; with all the joys and all the baggage one usually tries to forget.
Learning the disheartening news made me feel, naturally, guilt ridden. Not that my own personal hell was enough for consideration by everyone else. As if my story earned a medal or something. It served to reinforce the simple fact that life is something we must toil with, that it’s the hardest thing, just to be alive. And everything we experience is designed to make it more challenging.
Why is it we can go through life with a view that suits us, that once it becomes past tense, the blinders melt away and we are left to see the whole, ugly vista? How do we rebuild, or remake a relationship with someone we knew once, but can keep in touch with by paper? Can we put aside the things that caused us grief with friends, and reconnect with them at a later time? Have they changed? Have we? Are we old friends, or new friends with history?
I am the first to admit I am bad at keeping order. I rarely do anything on time, or the way most people do things. I hate that I cause distress in others. That my inaction causes loss of faith and trust that I can’t begin to repay. That I try to over look the negative, which, I did in the beginning, and it proved to be the down fall.
Even before anyone can interject, I have had my share of negativity. I was a difficult person to befriend I know. Most of us, at some point, are like that. Part of that complex human nature philosophy. I am far from perfect. I think I have grown some, matured, and even opened my mind some. But I can’t help to wonder, if I have progressed so much, and so has my friend, why do I have a caution sign flashing in my head?