Monday, July 17, 2017

Is That All There Is?

For the last several years, I'd toss off a hasty e-mail or so to Hopkins while I was at camp; I pulled myself up short of doing so this year. Part of my route back to my sister's house in the city passes a now-empty call center facility at which he once worked, many years ago. Twice a day, I reminded myself that I'm only someone with whom he occasionally hangs out. I sent no e-mails this year. 

It's forced me to realize that although I thought that we were friends in high school, I was more of a thing he couldn't readily shed. I didn't matter, I was just there. I was part of the furniture; not worth really knowing, not worth remembering. 

We all lose our innocence about certain things as time passes. You never know what will kill it, or when it will die. When it happens, though, there's this hollow feeling that is physically painful. 

Since the conversation with my aunt, clarifying my insignificance to Hopkins, I have sent the lone e-mail explaining that I had done so. 

He won't miss me. He never has. I knew it would go down this way, but I was determined to try one more time. 

It will never make a difference.

I woke up this morning with all four cats in the bed. Tomorrow there will be cats, and the dogs are coming home this afternoon.

That's as good as it gets. I just need to accept it.

No comments: