This time we’re asked to write about a loss, and I think of you.
Not in a sad way, you understand. More like the way I remember old friends whom I don’t get in touch with anymore. Or how I feel about grass.
I have a moon journal from that time. The entries are very emotional. It all feels disconnected from me, like I’m reading about a distant cousin who sounds and acts like me but isn’t, not quite.
Now we’re in the same city I sometimes wonder if we’ll ever bump into each other. What would I say?
Nothing special, probably. Actually, if I saw you first I might shift directions to avoid bumping into you at all.
(Here I pause, and wonder why that would be my instinctive reaction. Surely I’m mature enough to handle something like that with Grace-Kelly poise. But I cast my mind back, and then I’m not so sure.)
Part 1 of 3 for a Writing 101 assignment.