Old Photos

So here I am, having spent the night looking through old photos of former friends who I haven't talked to in years now.  Usually, I'm pretty good at letting go of old friends and people I no longer see, but this one's different.  I'd only known her for a year.  But she was one of the first people to teach me to be a friend in the same way that I am today.

She was the first one I could talk to about serious issues, emotional concerns, and significant changes on equal footing, as though we could really understand each other rather than just listening politely.  She had more problems than me in many ways.  Her home life was troubled, her emotions about as flighty as mine are now, and her affection distributed in ways that I have since come to understand.

I didn't understand everything then.  I didn't understand most of it.  Hell, I still don't understand a fair bit, and by now most of it will have presumably changed because it has, in fact, been years since we've even spoken.  She changed me a lot.  She taught me things about life and struggle and about myself.  Maybe that's why it was so hard to let go.

I struggled to keep in touch with her long after I'd let go of others and things were starting to fall apart.  Maybe she didn't really need me.  But when she did, that meant the world to me.  It changed the way I see friendships now.  She showed me what it was to be needed, appreciated, cherished, needed.  And that has made me a different person.

I wanted then and still do now to remain close to her, to help her, to be there.  But that ship has long since sailed, and she has made that perfectly evident to me.  So yes, I am sad, and I look on those old photos with fond memories and a bittersweet smile.  But I am moving on.  I wish her all the best.  And I will still be here if she ever wants to talk.