Long lost friends

Once upon a time I had a childhood friend. We went to the same school, and we used to have parties and go to each other’s houses and everything. And I always thought of her as a little pretty doll who had magically managed to come alive.

Then we grew up, went to different schools and took different paths. In other words we fell out of touch.

- How is that possible on such a small rock like Malta?

- I don't know. I'm just telling you what happened.

Admittedly I am quite certain that had I been more outgoing and self-assured a few years back, when I saw her at one of my favourite Paceville haunts I might have just gone up to her to say hi. But I felt awkward. So I didn’t.

Sometimes it’s not what you do that really gets to you. It’s what you didn’t do and what could have been. ‘What if?’ – that is definitely the most frightening concept ever! Because it means that you closed a door on an opportunity, shutting it out of your life forever. And more often than not, the postman does only ring once. And sometimes when he does, you’re not at home and your special delivery package gets lost forever.

Not having said ‘hi’ (that damn monosyllabic word) to my childhood friend - that will be, alas, one of the few things which I will live to regret. So much of our childhood friendship could have been reminisced… we could have stayed in touch… wudda, cudda, shudda…

Years later I heard, by manner of the all-knowing grapevine, that she suffered a tragedy in the family. Once this news had been confirmed I sent her a card, complete with my return address and contact details. Weeks, months passed by and I never received anything from her. I figured that she wasn’t ready, secretly expecting a note, an sms or an email from her, one day. Time passed and… nothing. I wasn’t surprised. To be honest, I didn’t even take it personally. I just figured that it was too difficult for her to talk about it just yet.

And then it happened. An apparition.

Last week, on my way home from work I glanced at someone who looked familiar, who reminded me of someone I knew. It was like a dream, where you know who you’re dreaming of, but can’t quite put your finger on the identity of the other person.

And then our eyes met. It was her. She looked like a porcelain doll, fragile and pretty. We stopped in our tracks. I think I even stopped breathing for a few seconds, out of shock. But as soon as she realised who I was she turned her head. And I just stood there.

Again I figured that she wasn’t ready.

Then something gripped the pit of my stomach and I suddenly felt the urge to chase after her, find her and tell her how sorry I am about everything. But then the vagrant look in her eyes haunted me. I stood planted to the ground contemplating her look, the very vision of her.

Should I have stopped? What if…

After all what would I tell her? Was I going to ask her what she’s been up to? Is she seeing anyone lately? Was I going to tell her about the last disastrous date I went on? Or about my blog?

We are not best friends. And although I swear that I really wanted to help her, I couldn’t think of anything I could do to make one little bit of difference in her life.

Some words are better left unsaid.

And perhaps, after all I am the one who’s not ready.

I still hope however, that she does get in touch with me. And I hope that when she does, I’ll be ready.