I attended a close friend's birthday party on Saturday. We've been mates for years. He now lives miles away with his wife and children, so we see each other very infrequently. In our salad days, we'd see each other virtually every day. Another example of the attentional work that time does to undermine friendships. The renting asunder of once close friendships like this happens so gradually that it's pain-free. You're not even aware of it at the time. It's only when you look back over your years together with the clairvoyant aid of middle-age and strong drink that the poignancy of the loss becomes apparent.
Birthday parties are, therefore, charged with some sadness these days. Which is a shame because I used to love a party. Don't get me wrong - we still had a ball on Saturday. It's just that from time-to-time, I found myself sneaking a look at the people I grew up with and mourning the loss of youthful intimacies. I don't think I'm overly given to these thoughts. I spoke of another lifelong friend at the same shindig and he betrayed similar feelings.
In fact there were several lifelong friends of mine at this do. We're unusual in this, I discovered in adulthood. We all grew up together, attended the same schools and lived in the same areas. We were mates as children and saw no reason to let the arrangement slide as we grew in adulthood. It's only when we widened out circle to include work friends and partners that we all realised that most people didn't operate like this. Their loss.
Having got this far, we'll all see the race out together now I suppose. I hope so anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment