I will turn 40 in three months. It is a milestone I am really afraid of; the first half of life is building up, and the second half is ramping down–a long goodbye…goodbye to health, and beauty, and youth (if one is fortunate), and ultimately to life and everything and everyone that one loves. Maybe it all happens slowly, so that there is time to prepare. Maybe, by the time one is close to the end, one accepts and welcomes it.
Have I done everything in my life that I wanted to? For the most part, I have. I married, I had kids, I have been semi-successful at my career; I have published writing. The one thing I haven’t managed is to lose weight and keep it off, but I am perpetually working on that.
I am worried today that I am about to lose my best friend. We normally text every day, and it has been three days. I have seen the friend post on social media and answer people there; I have seen the friend active on other platforms. I guess the friend has been answering me less and less–they volunteered the other day that they were busy but no less fond of me. I don’t know whether to take that at face value or not. I have been feeling a bit tight in my stomach today, wondering what it is I might have done or said wrong. And wondering why the friend didn’t tell me, or give me a chance to fix it.
Maybe the friend really is just busy. Or maybe the friendship is dying. I haven’t asked or said anything. I don’t want to be needy.
I once mentioned to this friend that I wrote fiction. The friend badgered me until I gave away my pen name. Now I wonder if I am about to lose the friend. The same with an ex of mine–he too pushed and pushed until I gave him my pen name. Then he left. And I am left knowing that he left my life, but still has access to my private thoughts. I suppose all writers have that problem.