Earlier today, I was IM'ing with a good friend who lives on the other side of the country, and I was asking her advice about another friend, whom she's never met. More specifically, how I should be responding to a particular situation in which I find myself regarding this friend. A situation that has slowly devolved and become potentially insurmountable to our friendship, unless we suddenly are able to turn back the hands of time. I'm still working on that Master of Time, Space, and Dimension thing.
Then later I was talking on the phone (sooooo last millennium *yawn*) to another friend who also lives far away, about another friend who lives even further away. This phone conversation revolved around our concern for this friend and his declining mental and physical health. We spoke for nearly an hour, while his friends in the background chastised him for not hanging up and enjoying a Cinqo de Mayo drink with them.
(I must stop right here and emphasize that both of these conversations revolved around helping the party about whom we were speaking...this wasn't just idle gossip, people...it was very, very busy and industrious gossip.)
Anyway, these two conversations left me feeling strangely happy yet unsettled.
I love that I have friends in my life, however frequently we talk, that are part of my chosen, extended family. I revel in the fact that our stories are woven together inextricably, and that the fabric that is created will keep us warm in our coldest moments, and serve as a hammock when we want to kick back and relax.
But these two conversations today also reminded me of others that were once a large part of my life whose thread, for whatever reason, frayed away forever from the fabric that is my story.
And I worry that the two people about whom we spoke will also, one day, be a part of my history instead of my present.