One of my favourite people in the world blogged yesterday. She hasn't blogged in a long very time, and in the back of mind, though I have never met her, and only conversed a couple of times... I wondered, and hoped, that she was okay, that she was happy. And it would seem she is.
Life is about connectivity, about relationships formed through mediums diverse and widespread.
I know more people now than I have ever done, and yet, strangely, I see far fewer. Saturdays used to be breakfast days, out and about. Sundays were 'Roastie' days - hours tinkering in the kitchen, friends descending, food wolfed, bodies sprawled throughout the house in contentment, chatting, full, watching tv, reading the papers. Weekends were for walking, for ambling about and mooching, head cocked at the strangeness of the world, bantering and debating, simply being in each other's company. Weekday evenings were kung fu and football and climbing, the latter punctuated by pickled eggs in packets of crisps in the pub. Long weekends in the mountains, days in the hills, tents by the beach.
Things happen. Life and people and friends move on. Connectivity stretches, reduced to the simplicity of the keyboard and screen and snapshots in words and pictures. Friendships form the same way, sometimes intruding into the physical, sometimes never more than words on screen. Friends come and go. Life comes and go.
I've changed. For the better I suppose. I am no longer the angry, thundercloud wearing young man I once was. I am calmer, quieter, more considered, harder. I do my best, not always successfully. I try, I fail, sometimes I succeed.
And things have changed around me. Life has evolved in ways I thought it wouldn't, life has morphed and mutated and yet the mismatch remains the same. My bridges are fewer, the gaps wider and more numerous. Those bridges are precious, the connections precious. The people I know and love... precious.
Even those long gone.