Yesterday, I found myself thinking about my friends from college. I had been talking to three of them and I just miss them, in a way that I wasn’t initially aware of. I thought about the friendships I once had. How we were bound together by time and proximity. Our time was endless except for studying, which was easily given up and I was one of the few that worked.
We lived all together. Within feet of one another. It wasn’t miles, it wasn’t a car trip, it wasn’t a plane trip. It was next door. I’m saddened that I don’t have that anymore. That I won’t have that anymore by the nature of age. My time has become a precious commodity and I don’t have endless amounts of it. We are all so many miles apart on completely different coasts; we are plane flights away from each other. And I miss it because I know I won’t get it back.
For me my friends have always been my family. They are my family. When I was a child, my family were just people I was bound to by blood, but who were never there for me. My friends were my core. My friends were always there for me. When I conjure up the word family it is so leaden with despair and disappointment. But friendship is filled with love, kindness, compassion, humor, excitement and adventure. And I want that.
Even though the family I have now is my own, one that I have created it is such a paradigm shift for me to turn my focus to family and not to friends. It’s hard for me to shift to this thing that hurt me so much and I find myself still relying on my friends who have moved on and have created their own family, their own networks. I feel like I’m left in the shadow of that. Looking back at these memories, yellowing with age, I know I have to put them away and let them go.
Written as a part of Shell’s Pour Your Heart Out