Chirru Birru

Homeless

I work in what feels like an alien, transient city and my current occupation as a wandering, hired gun with a PowerBook turns consistency into novelty. The chances for meaningful connections with people are all too rare. Somehow, in DC, at work, I made a new friend. That in itself is pretty amazing. What's positively unimaginable is that she's become a kindred spirit.

My friend and I try to meet up at least once a week for lunch and conversation. Various celestial bodies aligned themselves the other day and I was allowed another noontime oasis with her. She trusts me enough now that she knows she doesn't need to wear a fake smile and lie about her day. Like any other recent lunch we've had, she brought me up to speed regarding the saga that is her love life. This time she shared more than I expected, and told me about a boy she fell for when she was young and very naive, and all the horrific things she went through while being used and manipulated by that heartless son of a bitch. I can now say this with authority: she's a survivor. She incredibly managed to live through him and college at the same time.

Later that day, the gravity of what I was told fully sank in when I recounted the tale to my wife, Beth. At that point, my heart became heavy and I was knee deep in a melancholy that showed no signs of letting up until an hour ago. My empathy woke up and caused much of the sadness. The rest came from my realization that conversations like these just don't come by all that often. As I get older I'm finding that sharing a friend's troubles isn't a burden; it's a privilege.

Modern, adult life revolves so much around doing things. We all enjoy our distracting little activities with our willing little activity partners. That's great. That can recharge us once in a while. But something gets lost as we mature and inherit responsibilities. We replace the people we need with the things we need to do. All my life I've had two families: my classic nuclear kin and my closest friends. And I needed both to get through it all. But here I am now in DC, and my blood is back in Franklin, MA. My closest friends from school are scattered around New England and around the country. Shelby, my closest friend from DC, is now in Sweden. I can assure you video/audio/IM/SMS/email/phone, none of it replaces having these people around to talk to in person, to do something, or to be bored together and do nothing. At this point in my life, I'm losing these people faster than I'm gaining them. Everyone has their own path they must take. People come and go. And it's positively exhausting.

Shelby always managed to inspire people with his spirit and ways of seeing, and had a way of bringing people together. I can only hope to recreate some of that in his absence. I'm not alone though. I do have Beth, who at only 5'0" always manages to stand tall beside me, even when I've given up on myself. I have my sister Sara, and while I may have gotten off to a late start with her, I appreciate what I have. I've been diligently working to meet new people, and I'm encouraged by my progress. I'm strengthening some existing friendships. I'm making new acquaintances. And I have a surprising, new friend who willingly confides in me, and that's a great gift. She says she's an orphan and this is her new home, and I understand where she's coming from. DC doesn't quite feel like my home yet, and maybe it never will, but I'm willing to put in the effort and willing to fail to find out. As I've grown I've learned to reach out my friends, and I cling to the hope that they will reach out to me.

posted by birru @ 6:12 PM