That's what he said. Water under the bridge. Thirty seven years ago he walked to his car,
drove away and we never spoke again. Today we are exchanging emails
after finding each other on Facebook.
A college love affair - crazy, confusing, youthful mistakes and regrets.
All those shared memories of that single bubble in time.
Trying to condense 37 years into an email. Marriages, divorces, births, deaths.
How do you make your life sound interesting yet be truthful. Do you tell all?
Do you embellish? Keep it lighthearted, or spew out all the grit and grime?
Summing it all up, your failures, your blessings, a balance of both,
trying to leave an impression of contentment, a good life.
Why should it matter? 37 years later, someone you have thought of,
but never contacted is suddenly in your address book,
their letter waiting in your email.
It has thrown me off kilter. Forced memories long buried. Why did I? Why didn't I?
Forced examination of self. Not always a comfortable exercise to be sure,
and in this case, quite difficult for me.
That last year we knew each other, was one of my most tumultuous.
I was not always kind to those who loved me
and Karma quickly smacked me down in return.
I struggle with the benefits versus the negatives of all this technology.
Being on Facebook and having a blog, I am still under the impression
that the benefits are in the lead. But all this goes deep, the intimacy we share
with virtual strangers, the risk of judgment by others. Scary stuff.
You are not assured of happy outcomes when you reconnect. Living so far from
my home town and having no family left there I have never attended a school reunion.
All those friends, long lost, are frozen in time in my memories.
They have not aged, they have not changed.
With FB, suddenly their photos are there and I study them with intensity,
shocked at first at how they've aged, ignoring what they would think
if they were able to see my photo, which I do not post.
I am awed by the bravery of all those who post their not always
flattering images for all to scrutinize. I am not that brave.
Bravery is required. To honestly type out the truth, with it's shame and triumph.
To face yourself on this Facebook as well as put your best face forward.
It IS all water under the bridge, these histories,
but those currents can swiftly take you somewhere
that you are not always prepared to visit. Keep your life vest handy.
Suzan
drove away and we never spoke again. Today we are exchanging emails
after finding each other on Facebook.
A college love affair - crazy, confusing, youthful mistakes and regrets.
All those shared memories of that single bubble in time.
Trying to condense 37 years into an email. Marriages, divorces, births, deaths.
How do you make your life sound interesting yet be truthful. Do you tell all?
Do you embellish? Keep it lighthearted, or spew out all the grit and grime?
Summing it all up, your failures, your blessings, a balance of both,
trying to leave an impression of contentment, a good life.
Why should it matter? 37 years later, someone you have thought of,
but never contacted is suddenly in your address book,
their letter waiting in your email.
It has thrown me off kilter. Forced memories long buried. Why did I? Why didn't I?
Forced examination of self. Not always a comfortable exercise to be sure,
and in this case, quite difficult for me.
That last year we knew each other, was one of my most tumultuous.
I was not always kind to those who loved me
and Karma quickly smacked me down in return.
I struggle with the benefits versus the negatives of all this technology.
Being on Facebook and having a blog, I am still under the impression
that the benefits are in the lead. But all this goes deep, the intimacy we share
with virtual strangers, the risk of judgment by others. Scary stuff.
You are not assured of happy outcomes when you reconnect. Living so far from
my home town and having no family left there I have never attended a school reunion.
All those friends, long lost, are frozen in time in my memories.
They have not aged, they have not changed.
With FB, suddenly their photos are there and I study them with intensity,
shocked at first at how they've aged, ignoring what they would think
if they were able to see my photo, which I do not post.
I am awed by the bravery of all those who post their not always
flattering images for all to scrutinize. I am not that brave.
Bravery is required. To honestly type out the truth, with it's shame and triumph.
To face yourself on this Facebook as well as put your best face forward.
It IS all water under the bridge, these histories,
but those currents can swiftly take you somewhere
that you are not always prepared to visit. Keep your life vest handy.
Suzan
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