There is an odd place between rejection and acceptance that is full of nothing.  Nooma (update to reflect that she is no longer the object of my affection) drove up while I was walking, pulled over and talked for a couple minutes.  It was strange, because all I could think about was continuing my walk.  Never had the inkling to invite her to walk with me, either.  She became an interruption instead of a welcome break.  It startled me to feel that way.

A choice has been made to spend her limited free time in other pursuits.  That’s fine, but it means there also has been a fundamental change in our friendship.  The tectonic plates have shifted and the continents have split and there will be no going back to Pangaea. Yes, I still do miss the deep talks, but those are going to be very rare from now on.  Hence… acceptance.  But there is a sadness… no, a bitterness behind that acceptance.   I’d be less bitter if there was an honest exchange between us, but we haven’t talked past the level of small talk in a couple months – a few empty promises of “Oh, we need to catch up”.  We’re almost mere acquaintances now.

But, I’m in a good place, enjoying life and newness and exploration.  Seeing her triggered some unfinished business, but didn’t overwhelm me.  Maybe I am losing the desire to revisit and reminisce, and taking in the scenery around me instead.   That’s a healthier approach than any I have had in a long, long time.


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