A little strange bit of sadness found me on Saturday.
I love my friends, I feel a connection that seems to withstand time and distance in a way that I imagine other people don’t. When I encounter old friends it feels like we just pick up where we left off.
On Saturday in Toronto we attended the 40th birthday party of a friend. There were a few old faces in the crowd, people I consider close friends, people I miss. Now the party was lovely and upbeat and I was in a great mood, small talk is not something I find to be a drag. People reveal a tremendous amount through small talk if you listen carefully enough.
Near the end of the evening an old friend came in, someone that was a key person in my life for a long time. It was great seeing him and although we didn’t chat long, there was no awkwardness, no distance, just happiness. Paul and I were heading out so my friend and I made tentative plans to meet the next day.
As I was leaving the bar, saying my good byes, it hit me, this strange little feeling somewhere between anxiety and sadness. Now initially I thought this feeling was the result of percieving a distance between me and my old chums. But I didn’t feel that. I felt the old connection.
As we hopped into a cab my mood continued to darken, I tried to explain to Paul what was happening, but what came out of my mouth sounded wrong. I couldn’t articulate it because I didn’t know.
Now a couple of days later this is how I can describe it; a little bit of the sadness that I felt the day we packed up the car and dropped the keys off at the lawyer on our way to Montreal hid itself away. On Saturday seeing my old dear friends it sort of popped up. It was like I was leaving Toronto all over again, even though I left Toronto nearly two years ago. I felt anxious and nostalgic, like that cab was headed down the 401.
strange
