History

I was thinking about some old friends today. Not the close friends that you keep for a lifetime, but the ones that just pass through your life. It is amazing how close you can be with people and not know them at all in a few years. I have a lot of these because for a long time, I thought that I didn't need anymore close friends. I have a handful of the greatest friends, but none of them live, or lived in the same city as me. So in my mind, I had this solid group around the globe, then I kept my stand-by friends that were just for surface conversations, thrift store shopping and benders at the local dive. But lately I have been remembering those quickie relationships and thinking that it is mind-boggling how close you can get to someone when you think you are just passing the time, especially if you are both miserable.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am not a barfly loser crying in my beer, but for a short time, I pretended I was. I holed up in a mountain town for 3 years, hoping, I guess, for some Northern Exposure-like existence; somewhere that I could work hard and blend into the local scene, maybe become known for a schtick. I was the scholarly young woman who decided to become a farmer and hang out with the old timers instead of pursuing the academic career like society wanted. The idea was so romantic to me. I had this fantasy of living in an old airstream in a field but studying philosophy and religion, learning to play violin, and growing herbs and veggies for local restaurants and markets. In this dream I was so content in my solitude. Then one day I would leave with little notice and move to New England or Vienna and continue my formal education, all the while impressing my peers with my poise and quiet wisdom.

It didn't happen that way, not at all. It should have though. I did live an isolated life in the mountains, but I was lonely and made stupid decisions. I did go to a local college for horticulture, but I was too scattered to keep it together to start a business. I did get a schtick, but I was the scholarly young woman who came to town, then lost herself dreaming on a barstool about being someone else. I don't have a ton of regrets. I have some wonderful memories. The smell of my kitchen in summer; it was fresh lemons, hand picked mint and tomatoes. When I smell a tomato vine, I can see that kitchen, my poor old dog and I can hear my neighbors yelling across the fence.

The real regrets in my life are the times that I didn't get to know people better, or when I didn't keep in touch, or when I wasn't there when they needed me. There are a few people that I made "friends" with in that small town, that I never was genuine with, I never really valued them or took them seriously, they were just characters in my little TV show, and for that I am sorry.