Looking back on my Xanga, I came across a comment from one of my old friends.
I read through their posts, revelling in the fact that when they were writing this, they are the same age I was now. I couldn’t believe that back then, when I lived in Minnesota, I had looked up at the 10-year-old whom I thought was so grown up.
People who I thought I had lost contact with forever sent me friend requests on Facebook. And looking at their pages, I’m wowed by how much we all changed–I thought that after I moved, everyone would be the same, and that I could always come and visit and have everything in place. That, clearly, would not be the case.
How selfish had I been to expect everyone to stay the same, and to be waiting for me? I’ve moved all the way across the country and back again, and I’ve gotten in fights that I thought would shatter friendships forever. And now, everything’s come full circle and I have got back in touch with some of the people who had only been distant memories in the past.
When I was in Korea, I had been given the opportunity to meet up with one of my childhood friends. Shy, insecure and embarassed to see what he turned out to be after all these years, I had refused to go. Now I wonder what would have happened to both of us if I had gone and met with him; I wonder what he would have thought if I had gone and he saw me, for the first time, in about 8 years.
It’s a small world, but it’s getting bigger every day.
