The last mile home

Let me tell you a story.

I live an ambiguous life. There are many people in my orbit, a weak pull of my gravity holding them where they are. People disappear, sometimes for a few weeks, sometimes the rest of our natural lives. Planning a schedule, having aspirations for the future, it's all dependent on some of those who are distant coming close eventually.

I am prone to grand dreams with borderline strangers. When people retreat into the shadow for which I have no lantern, it hurts. When people I thought I knew and expected better of, it hurts way more.

In October, I decided to detox as best I could from my phone, and the distractions I plunged into dozens of times a day. I disabled the apps. I hoped with enough patience, the people I already had some kind of introduction to might come closer, an actual relationship would happen. Maybe friends from the last couple years would walk the last mile home.

This was definitely a success. There are some strong friendships in the storyboard phase, and I spend more time (and better time) with existing friends. I stopped trying to balance meeting a surging river of new people with those that, whatever else they are, do care about me and care about my feelings. I care about their feelings, too.

Fall-into-winter has taught me some elementary lessons. The primary one concerns patience. If I can just wait, stop being defined by my frustration and irritation, some people will make that last mile home. It has always been true. I admire friends who make the walk despite arguments, life obstacles, new distractions and interactions. It's hard, I often don't make the walk myself.

I have a friend who we have spent very little time together in 2024, maybe twice in person. We have had two phone conversations. I talked about being flakey and an incident in which I insulted them and made them feel shame. They talked about their insecurity in feeling like a bad friend. I hold immense respect for them. I also have faith that we will figure it out, even if it takes the rest of our lives.

The map is lost, GPS has gone haywire: our only guide is that we have been here before and will make the walk as many times as it takes.

Of all the things in the world, this is the one most worth doing.

Artemis