With this being said, not all friendships can be salvaged. People enter our lives, people exit our lives; such a change is inevitable. People grow, people change and we have to let this happen. Our priorities change, we become busier, sometimes wiser and hopefully clever enough to sometimes see what no longer fits in our lives.
Recently I had the opportunity to reacquaint myself with an old friend, who back in high school was my best friend. We knew each other’s secrets and hopes, invented our own vocabulary and we were inseparable. Fast-forward to the first year of post-high school realities of university and jobs and shifting priorities and our friendship slowly changed. Yet what dramatically changed and eventually ended our friendship was my disapproval of her first boyfriend. As she distanced from me, she attached more to him. Although I may have wanted to shake her up, I let her live her own life and make her own decisions. Five years later, she is married to him, has a child with him and has converted to his faith.
As I spoke to her recently via a social networking site, I was saddened to discover that the friend I missed and loved was no longer there. I tried futilely to cling onto a memory of her and us and revive that bygone innocence of youth. We weren’t the same girls who lusted over Josh Hartnett and idealistically planned our futures. In fact, after a few chats, I realised the polar opposites we had become. We could never start afresh as adult friends and go to the movies or grab a coffee because of her changing priorities and newfound religious conservatism. I grew critical of her radical religious transformation and her smug satisfaction of merely being a wife and mother. I could similarly imagine her being critical of me being unwed (although I’ve been in a long-term relationship) as well as judgement over my vacuous hopes to write professionally whilst teaching.