April 21, 2007
An old friend
has recontacted me. A smattering of voicemails and text messages, he makes me chuckle. And he reminds me of different paths. Of a life that might be, although not necessarily with him.

This man reminds me of who I was some time ago, the girl who intended to write for a living, a woman of popularity who thought college would be her ultimate moment, who thought a husband indeed waited who would bring worldwide travel and unquestionable devotion sometime long before now.

It wasn't to be. A collage of factors, of crippling depression many years ago and relationships that I could have forced to be the One, but ultimately did not by the grace of something unknown and to this point unacknowledgeable, have passed by the window. Regrets are one way to take stock of those bygones, but it seems senseless at this point, even without the aid of two glass of Pinot Grigio.

Things happened as they should have. I'm not to the point of a que sera, sera, like so many so-called well-evolved women who share my demographic. But I know where I have been, have catalogued my painful missteps, have acknowledged my faults. And yes, even a few moments of success.

It is the now that seems like that moment of choice.

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18 Comments:

Blogger janet said...

I have also recently gotten in touch with an old friend/flame. It's amazing just how it can make you think. It's weird to think about how small-ish seeming choices affect our big picture life.

Blogger Wicked H said...

Very well said Mama. Kudos to you. As one who also is at her moment of choice, it's really not all that bad.

Embrace it.

Blogger Megarita said...

Isn't it funny how they pop up at significant times? It's as though the universe is bopping you on the back of the head to give you perspective.

Anonymous Jorge said...

I'm convinced they know the right time to show up.

They are like beacons.

The hard part is losing a good friend for no reason.

This has happened to me recently, and despite my dogged determination, I've made a decision to let things lie.

Blogger Sizzle said...

i am reminded of one of my favorite songs, "somehow i find myself far out of line from the ones i had drawn/it wasn't the best of paths/you could attest to that/but i'm keeping on/ would our paths cross if every great loss had turned out our gain/would our paths cross if the pain it had cost us was paid in vain"

you've got the right attitude kris.

Blogger byjane said...

Must be something in the air... I'd quote a bit of Buddhist philosophy that I just read--but then I'd scare myself.

It's strange, I find that for the first time in my life I'm finding peace -- but by letting go rather than reconnecting and holding on tighter.

Blogger Kristin said...

And then you drank wine.

Anonymous Maya said...

Bottoms up, sister! No, really, you sound at peace in this post -even without knowing what's going to happen.

Blogger brookem said...

i really enjoyed this.

Blogger Gwen said...

My high school boyfriend contacts me every few years; he seems to think I'm the path he didn't but should have taken, and every time we reconnect, I find myself wondering who I was back then and being thankful for the way things turned out for me.

Maybe you are the kind of person who will never be "at peace" in that way we sometimes take it to mean; maybe part of who you are, what makes you special, is that you are always going to be questioning, always going to be choosing.

Blogger Ripe for Reading said...

You sound content.

Cheers!

Blogger Matt said...

You're like an attractive version of "Cathy."

Blogger Kate said...

Hey Kris,

Glad to see you take stock in so much all at once and so eloquently.

After you do that though, a few minutes later, are you ever like, "What?"

Sometimes when I wrap stuff up neatly I then wonder how I did it. But I'm a 'flashes of brilliance' kind of girl anyway.

Cool post.

Blogger Jessica said...

Loved this one, it made me think.

I'd have sex with him and try to ruin his life.

Blogger ChickLitMD said...

I think a stronger person stands alone ... I have too many friends that regret decisions they've made, and wished they would have held out. Who knows the best is probably yet to come ... one gets older and knows their person better :)

Blogger DDL said...

At this point, it only gets better, even when it feels like "meh, not so much". And trust me, it's fabulous.

Blogger Lord Fondleberries said...

here's a bit i made about reconnecting with old friends.

I've recently been e-mailing back and forth with a former college roommate.

Trevor and I haven't talked to each other for many years (the internet isn't just for porn anymore: that's right, baby, get your stalk on). We both have grown up (somewhat) and have had some interesting experiences during the hiatus. That's nice.

In one of my e-mails, I mentioned that I remembered once wearing a sweater of his and bursting into flames. Literally.

At the time, we both were known for using a bit of hairspray (he tells me now that some of the people we hung out with secretly referred to us as the slick Ricks. I don't know whether to accept this as a nod to our incredible rockabilly style, or to search out those friends and wish them a happy go fuck yourself. For the record, some of these friends were Wolf, Masturbation Dave, Lank, and Barefoot Dave---the latter name given to avoid any confusion among the Daves).

As the story goes, I had borrowed one of Trevor's sweaters for some reason or another before we headed out to a nearby pond to smoke with the very same friends. Standing in the requisite circle, we passed around the old peace pipe until the supply was gone. And we were gone. While in my spot, I held a lighter by my side, flicking it. On. Off. On. And poof. I burst into flames.

The next thing I knew, I had hit the dirt. Hard. Apparently the other slick Rick had tackled me to put out the fire. And save the sweater. It was a great sweater, albeit comprised almost entirely of hairspray.

It turns out that Trevor remembered the day I caught fire. He provided this detail: the sweater belonged to his friend Heather.

lord f

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