I had the joy recently of reconnecting with an old friend, someone whom I love dearly but had, for reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain, lost touch with to such a degree that I hadn’t even spoken to them in years. (Chloe asked me why that was the case, and I genuinely had no answer; we drifted apart, I suppose…? But it was something that happened entirely by accident, and which I’d actively regretted at multiple moments in the last few years, even as I did nothing to change it.)
What makes things odd is that this friend reappeared in my life just days after I’d been thinking of her, wondering if I should reach out, and immediately telling myself that it had been too long, that it would be awkward, and all that manner of self conscious ridiculousness. I didn’t do anything, and then, she sent a message out of nowhere. Perhaps fate or kismet was at play, or maybe this is just an odd coincidence. Who can tell?
We played phone tag for a couple days across the weekend, following up on that message, and as we did, my anxiety grew back: sure, she’d reached out and then suggested I call anytime when I said we should catch up, but what if she was just being polite? What if she didn’t really mean it? What if, when we spoke again finally, it was just going to be awkward and halting, the years of non-contact having made us unable to have a conversation?
None of that was true, of course, and when we did manage to speak, it was the cliche of talking as if we’d last spoken just the week before; our rhythms were the same, the shared sense of humor and affection still entirely present. It was a thrill, a pleasure, and a sign that all my nervousness and anxiety had been entirely misplaced. But I keep thinking about just how strong that anxiety had been, and wondering just what else that might have kept me away from, elsewhere in my life…?