Ghosts of Friendships past

Friendship is a funny thing. Am I the only one that looks down the long hallway that is my past and sees the floating shadows of many former friendships? These are not necessarily friendships that suffered an explosive ending. Most of the time you try to keep in touch but days pass and the next thing you know two years have gone and you’ve barely spoken.  I do see these friends every now and then but the conversation is very brief and shallow, almost as if you’re back to acquaintance (or even stranger) level again. After all, people do change- and much quicker than we know sometimes. Although the joyful memories associated with them bring happiness, you almost have to take time to grieve that individual as you realise the intimacy you shared may not ever be experienced again.

But as the old ends, new ones begin and such is the pain and beauty of friendship.

__________________

 

I hate that we don’t talk

as much as we used to.

Will I ever meet some someone like you

I often wonder.

The spontaneous singing

The endless conversations

the laughing, the moments.

Heart to hearts

All in the past.

 

 

How it’s meant to be.

Yesterday I had a moment of serenity as I walked down the path to choir rehearsal. I was on the back streets of Notting Hill, the sun shining (weakly, but shining nonetheless), cooling intervals of breeze and Shawn Mendes’ voice soothing my eardrums. Did I mention I was eating a beef patty? Well, I should have, and with every bite, I was more appreciative of the moment at hand. As I looked at the trees ahead fighting for the sun’s spotlight I thought about how everything had conspired for this moment to happen. If I had decided to go home or to a different part of London, or maybe if it had rained instead- that exact moment wouldn’t have happened. That kind of mathematics (i.e. possible worlds and alternative chains of events) I like to leave to God, but it’s amazing to think about every now and then; it gives a new meaning to the moment.

Here’s a poem a wrote to embody the feeling in such moments:

I’m stoppable, untoppable*

as I walk down the street

there is no obstacle

that can slow me down.

The wind is my fanfare and

the sun my spotlight.

My feet tread light but stride confidently.

And my worries are only echoes

My worries are only echoes.

_______________

(*technically not a word but hey ho.)

Free with flowing thoughts…

On the day I should have been writing this post I had been sitting in an Itsu cafe in South London. It was desolate and peaceful. And in my head as I savoured the peace I congratulated myself for finding my little haven in the bustle. Even though I only had half the day off [of work] I really didn’t know what to do. I had piled on my tabletop the various options I had considered; Bible study booklet, current reading book and notebook for creative writing. It’s quite weird having even just a relatively small amount of time on your hands if you’re used to being on the go non-stop. It’s almost like your mind has to (with a lot of effort) tell your body to chill so you properly relax; embrace the moment of stillness.

As I adjusted and became more comfortable I people watched. In the back of my mind, I imagined being in a small and chic Parisian cafe watching busy folk curry across pavements to the sound of sipping coffee.

It was quiet in the shop but a customer sitting by the door inspired this:

 

Mr Anonymous

He plots world domination

one click at a time.

Liking tweet after tweet

twiddling with his headphones and

smiling out of the window

before swiftly disappearing onto the street,

melting into the crowd.