Hollow

Warning: Loose-Cannoned, Random-Person-Directed Rant Below

I'm not sure what you envision when you call and leave a message on my voice mail. ...Do you know that I'm screening your call? Do you perhaps expect me to be super unemployed-ly busy? Or for me to be rushing to dial your number back?

We've spoken in... Count the moments. 4 months?

Which, for me, would be fine, if I had heard between now and then that you were... You know... Alive.

I mean, I'm not the give-you-shit type. .....And if I did give you (the reader) the background to this doozy of a gossip column-worthy type story, I'm sure you'd understand.

I've just never really thought of friends ~ I mean like REAL friends as revolving... Coming and going. And it's taken the last few years for me to recognize ~ and maybe not even fully accept ~ that revolving friends are a part of a revolving life.

Wow. I'm like, poignant.

My husband asks me why I keep a number in my phone that only upsets me when it shows up on caller id, or when I think about calling it. ...Which, dammit, he has a point. ...But there is some friggin' sentiment there, you know? You can't just wear that lynyrd skynyrd tshirt from 6th grade (or in my case, Color Me Badd) and then abandon it to good will. ...You HAVE to cut it up and make it into a bandanna or into a do-rag or a patch or pjs or SOMETHING, right?

...At least, that's me. But I'm finding more and more, that not so many people hold my sentiments.

I used to be such a hoarder. I never threw anything out. My logic was that someday I'd be able to use that 'princess' pillow or that two-foot tall purple porcelain clown or that rocking horse frame I carefully glued back together somewhere again along the line. ...This was my mindset ~ Until I got stuck with too many damn Precious Moment figurines and snowflake-knitted sweaters.

...These days I actually pack pretty light. Both figuratively and emotionally.

And you know what? It's about time I learn.