Monday, June 28, 2010

one is silver and the other gold.

i think there are times when i realize that being an adult means that, sometimes, the friends you once had are no longer your friends.

it's not because you fought, or because anybody did anything wrong. there's no real drama at all, really. it's because life almost imperceptibly happens, moment by moment, pulling you further and further apart until you wake up one day and realize that the gulf between you is probably just too big to bridge.  you might even try to throw a line across that ever-widening canyon of distance, but your lines go unacknowledged and your echoed calls seem only to bounce back at you.

my mom warned me about this--that when you're an adult, you have a lot of acquaintances and few really good friends--but i don't think i've seen it happen in slow motion and felt somewhat powerless to stop it until recently. 

it makes me sad, in a way that brings guilt because perhaps i should have done more.  i should have been a better friend, i should have done more, i should have been more. perhaps i will be held accountable for that.

but then i think about the landscape of my life now and realize that, though it might be less densely populated, it is no less rich.  people are in your life for a reason, for a season, and then they aren't.  while i may wish for something different, or wish to have it all, perhaps it's not meant to be.  maybe the guilt is unnecessary, because the mission of friendship with that person is over.  maybe it's just run its natural course. 

how blessed i am by friends who have staying power, and how blessed i am by the friends who come in and out of my life as they will. 

1 comment:

  1. I'm experiencing this, myself. Yesterday I was having a really bad day and reached for the phone to call someone who I used to call daily about things like that. Except...we haven't spoken in months. I ended up sitting on my couch, having the conversation with myself. The silver friends (and even some of the gold friends) still seem to fade into the background. It's the rare, platinum friends (like my husband) that are the long-haul friends.