I spoke on the phone today with someone I’ve not seen for 15 years. We recognized one anothers’ voices instantly. A decade and a half: 15 years, gone like that, and here we are talking again, using office phones we weren’t thinking of before.
I spent the rest of the day dwelling on my world of 15 years ago and the people who were part of it yet have ceased to be. Most of them I never think about, just as I’m sure they don’t think about me. But there is one, maybe two, I frequently recall. Our lives make no contact anymore, yet small decisions I might have made here or there might have altered things and made us like the two guys from seminary I know who talk on the phone literally every day about what they ate for breakfast.
Instead we live isolated lives. We don’t call. We don’t email or write prosaic letters. I chose repeatedly not to.
I’m glad 15 years ago happened, back then, only once. Had it continued it might have been corrupted into something you have to maintain for its own sake, rather than something that feeds and nourishes you in a particular season only.