Note: The names in this piece have been changed to preserve confidentiality among my friends and me.
On this final day of October here in Minnesota, it was pitch dark at 7 a.m. Minutes ago, however, the sun broke through, and our predicted high for today is in the fifties. We've had a few potentially nice days lately with sunshine and blue skies, but the wind nearly swept me away a couple of times when I succumbed to the impulse to go out and get some Vitamin D.
The good thing about Minnesota weather is that it can at least temporarily distract you from whatever else is going on in your life; for example, a good friend, Jacqueline, who has lived in my apartment building for a couple of years, up and moved away recently. A few days before her departure, she and I bumped into each other down in the garage, and we enjoyed chatting for a few minutes. I remarked, “We won't be able to enjoy these impromptu visits much longer.”
So it is with lingering sadness that I compose this piece to post on Katalusis today.
Jackie and I were visiting with my friend Meghan a few days ago, who reminded my departing friend and me that we could stay in touch via phone, email, and letters. Well, I know from experience how that goes. My friends Beth in Chicago and Marilyn in Florida do stay in touch once in a great while, but it's been years since I've seen either of them.
The thought crossed my mind this morning that my sadness for my long distance friends is cumulative. My family moved around a lot when I was a child, which meant leaving friends and classmates behind that I had sometimes only begun to get to know.
Still, I remind myself this morning, as I sit here at my laptop reminiscing about them, that even though I may seldom hear from old friends, who have moved away, I continue to be enriched by our time together however long ago it transpired. Each of my friends has contributed to my personal growth over the years in more ways that I can count; thus, they remain an important part of my life.