In life we are so busy, that we often forget old friends, favourite people. Left behind, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. Sometimes the best of intensions are just not enough. After all intentions don't dial the phone. Maybe one day soon, but not just yet. We let time pass by, seasons go, years slip, distance yawns, bridges crumple, roads bifurcate.
The memories become hazy, sometimes we dust them, most often we don't. It's often easier to let it go, than saying hello. Ah the effort of making conversation, saying sorry, or not maybe. Old hurts harden the heart, build up walls. The need to share, the need to grow old together lessens. Till it is no longer. It's easier to go on, than take a pause. We assume the other person doesn't care, the other has moved on, forgotten. We assume, we assume.
New friends, new acquaintances, new preoccupations. And then there is life, the permanent excuse. Busy, busy life. Or is it? Is life so busy when at the dead of the night you can't sleep and old thoughts flood your head. Or maybe they don't, you suppress them well. In the deepest corner where the shadows of doubt are not allowed to reach, tucked away, wrapped tightly in thick blankets, sunlight never touches them. Then one day they are pushed right out. Out they topple, fall on the road, while you walk on. Unmindful. Or is it?
Memories fade, past is forgotten, the present takes the centre stage. The present, the present. The loves, the laughs, the joys, the fears, the stress, the needs, the emptiness.
Life goes on....
