Friends
The sun set a while ago and I’m sitting in the living room with the warm lights and furnace keeping away the unseasonably cool night. “Tied to Me (Acoustic)” by the magnificent William Fitzsimmons is quietly playing on the stereo. The couch is snugly in its new corner in the living room (we recently re-arranged furniture). Rain is gently falling outside, making tiny sounds on the windows. And, I know, this is sounding like a bad beginning to a dull book. But, literally, that’s what is happening right now. Forgive me the pedestrian topic and stunted prose: there’s poetry in everyday life, but I am still trying to capture that in writing.
I’m waiting for my lovely wife to come home from work. I talk with her and learn from her everyday, and she is the best luck I’ve ever had at anything, ever. As I’ve been saying recently, if happenstance is never on my side again, I’ll know it is because I used up all the luck in my life when I met my wife.
Mykala’s upcoming job transition and my student loans are both taking up our thoughts. Where will I work? Where will we live? I’d like to remain here in the city, enjoying a few years of youth, culture, and the simple life of a married couple.
For the past four years, things (WOW there’s a world outside of dental school!) have been continuing around me and I haven’t had the energy or presence of mind to engage them. I’ve kept in touch with some of my friends, and I really love talking to them and planning things to do. However, I’m hesitant to contact some I’ve fallen out of touch with. Are they interested in being friends anymore? Did they consider picking up the phone and then thought… “Nah; no thanks. I’m all set.” How do you even go about figuring that out? Is this why most friendships have an expiration date?
I’m really happy to have stayed in touch with those I have, but I just don’t know how to call someone and get this point across:
“So, yeah, sorry about the last 48 months… I’ve been really busy. What’s new? Do you still live in the state? What life-changing experiences have you had that I’ve completed missed that might make us incompatible now?”
What I’d be saying is this: “I’ve been too busy… for you.” Doesn’t seem like a good start.
I recently poured up a tooth positioner of my teeth from 13 years ago. There’s tooth 6 with a sharp, new, unworn incisal edge. As I looked at the time capsule stone model, I ran my tongue over the real thing, tracing the now-rough, worn edge of that same tooth. My bite used to be better. My teeth used to be less worn. It’s hard for me to accept that things change. Teeth. Friends. Jobs. Homes.