They still met every other day, although their friendship now was like that of two people who used to know each other years ago, but whose paths had diverged so much that there was little any more to talk about, even if the fondness remained intact, or deepened, even, and now sat awkwardly between them like an empty plate devoid of food they were supposed to share, and while they did now text each other every night, there were hardly any words exchanged, just emoticons of various kinds, at once necessary and inadequate, filling in for that which cannot be replaced.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
I sometimes remember, out of the blue, instances from decades ago, from when I was five, playing ball with another tenant's kid on the roof, who remarked that I was playing very well for someone my age, or from when I was six and wanted a cool pencil box like one of my classmate's that opened on the press of a button and had a mini-piano of sorts affixed to its lid, but I never really was able to get one for myself, or from when I was seven, and after much tenacity got my parents to buy me an umbrella that you wore like a headband rather than carry like a stick and which really caught the fancy of the girls in my class, as I knew it would. And when I'm thrown back, without asking, without demand, into these ephemeral episodes, I am five, or six, or seven again, and it is immense. And sometimes, I'm thrown back to being 23, and that is euphoria, but I can't talk about it here.
Posted by Caladrius at 3:20 PM