It’s easy to lose touch with people. Life in New York (and everywhere) gets busy quickly and suddenly that plan for an email, or a drinks meet-up or weeknight dinner has come and gone, leaving you wondering if perhaps too much time has elapsed that you need to rethink the relationship altogether.
A longtime friends birthday arrived last week and I sent a text (why I never call anyone on their birthday anymore I can’t say) with well wishes and signing off by telling them how much I love them. Five minutes later I got a text back:
Wrong #.
(Love hurts.) Mz. Auterberry.
Wow. So much time had elapsed that this close friend had changed their phone number and I wasn’t aware of it. Actually, much more to the point, this friend changed numbers and never even bothered to tell me!
I always say that maintaining a relationship of any kind is a lot of work, but this was just too much. Mz. Auterberry (whoever she is), basically summed of my overall feelings on the subject, literally sending me a text with what very well may be the story of my life: terribly sorry, wrong number, try again, better luck next time.
September 28, 2010
September 22, 2010
Fall is here, hear the yell. Back to school, ring the bell.
Fall is here (tomorrow, officially) and I can tell because there is a chill in the air and I suddenly feel compelled to purchase #2 pencils.
There’s a school across the street from my apartment for little people who look to be in kindergarten, and now each morning as I (late, tired) run out the door to a day I know will keep me in front of a computer at a desk dealing with things of moderate to high importance, I think briefly as I see those faces about what it was like to be young, and naïve and blissfully unaware of just how crazy this life can be.
They are outside, usually running around or playing with friends as the parents section off into groups and talk about their latest purchase at Bergdorf’s. Some I pass on the way to the subway being dragged by their parents as they cry and scream that they don’t want to go (I know the feeling), as though sitting through a day of kindergarten is the worst thing in the world that could possibly happen to them.
I don’t remember much of kindergarten but I happen to recall just sitting around being read to. I think I wrote my name a lot, which was easy enough after the first few tries. I attempted drawing pictures in crayon of stick figures, (my talent hasn’t changed much over the years) and was praised as a great artist. In the morning my mother picked out my clothes, provided me with a lunch (it was always there, like magic!) and transported me to and from the institution leaving me with basically nothing to worry about aside from making friends (all it took was a cookie swap!)
After a long subway ride I got to the office in my last clean dress (dry cleaning is expensive!) I opened an inbox with over 100 emails, had an alert that my credit card payment was due (the horror), I had a meeting in an hour, and having been late and skipped breakfast, my stomach was beginning to make all sorts of noises.
So, at the start of what promises to be a long day, I feel confident that in time those children I passed this morning will look back and realize, like I do, like we all do, just how great they had it when they didn’t have to do anything at all.
There’s a school across the street from my apartment for little people who look to be in kindergarten, and now each morning as I (late, tired) run out the door to a day I know will keep me in front of a computer at a desk dealing with things of moderate to high importance, I think briefly as I see those faces about what it was like to be young, and naïve and blissfully unaware of just how crazy this life can be.
They are outside, usually running around or playing with friends as the parents section off into groups and talk about their latest purchase at Bergdorf’s. Some I pass on the way to the subway being dragged by their parents as they cry and scream that they don’t want to go (I know the feeling), as though sitting through a day of kindergarten is the worst thing in the world that could possibly happen to them.
I don’t remember much of kindergarten but I happen to recall just sitting around being read to. I think I wrote my name a lot, which was easy enough after the first few tries. I attempted drawing pictures in crayon of stick figures, (my talent hasn’t changed much over the years) and was praised as a great artist. In the morning my mother picked out my clothes, provided me with a lunch (it was always there, like magic!) and transported me to and from the institution leaving me with basically nothing to worry about aside from making friends (all it took was a cookie swap!)
After a long subway ride I got to the office in my last clean dress (dry cleaning is expensive!) I opened an inbox with over 100 emails, had an alert that my credit card payment was due (the horror), I had a meeting in an hour, and having been late and skipped breakfast, my stomach was beginning to make all sorts of noises.
So, at the start of what promises to be a long day, I feel confident that in time those children I passed this morning will look back and realize, like I do, like we all do, just how great they had it when they didn’t have to do anything at all.
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