The first time I saw Trish, she was arguing with a vending machine. It wasn’t a particularly dramatic standoff; more a disgruntled muttering about the tyranny of lukewarm coffee. We were eighteen, freshmen adrift in the intimidating ocean of university life. I, a bookish boy with a face perpetually buried in a paperback, and Trish, a whirlwind of dark curls and laughter loud enough to turn heads. We bonded over the disappointment of the lukewarm coffee, and within minutes, it felt like we’d known each other for years.
Our friendship bloomed like a wildflower pushing through concrete. We were an odd couple, me with my quiet contemplation and Trish with her infectious enthusiasm. Weekends were a kaleidoscope of adventures – impromptu poetry readings in the park, marathon sessions dissecting our favorite films, stolen moments sharing dreams under a sky ablaze with stars. There was a comfort in her presence that went beyond words. She understood the unspoken lyrics of anxieties swirling within me, and with a single goofy grin, could conduct them into a lullaby of laughter.
Days were punctuated by texts that transcended mere communication. They were poems in emoji form, snippets of overheard conversations that made perfect sense only to us, and philosophical musings about the colour of the sky. With Trish, the mundane became extraordinary. A walk to the library became a quest through a fantastical forest, with squirrels rechristened as mischievous pixies and discarded coffee cups transformed into forgotten chalices.
Years flew by, marked by stolen moments and shared milestones. We navigated heartbreaks, celebrated triumphs, and wiped away tears – hers as salty as the sea, mine as quiet as a raindrop. We saw each other through first loves, disastrous breakups, and the crushing weight of self-doubt. There were unspoken promises woven into the fabric of our friendship – a silent vow to be each other’s constant, a safe harbor in the storm of life.
Life, however, is a fickle storyteller. Careers pulled us in opposite directions, and distance, the insidious thief, began to chip away at the edges of our connection. Texts became infrequent, the emojis less vibrant, the phone calls shorter. We tried, oh how we tried, to bridge the growing gap. But schedules clashed, life intervened, and the silences grew longer, more deafening.
One day, a text arrived. A simple line – “Just got married. Wish you were here.” A bittersweet pang echoed in my chest. Joy for her mingled with a sharp pang of loss. I sent a heartfelt congratulations, a message that felt hollow even as I typed it. The distance wasn’t just geographical anymore; it had seeped into the foundations of our connection.
Months turned into years, filled with sporadic updates on social media. The vibrant girl with the infectious laugh had become a curated life on a screen. A life I wasn’t a part of anymore. The silence, once a comfortable space, became a chasm, filled with unspoken words and unanswered questions.
Then, a notification popped up – a message from Trish. My heart leaped, a flicker of hope igniting in the darkness. “Hey,” it read. “Been thinking about you a lot lately. Remember that time we…” The message trailed off, unfinished. I waited for the rest, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Hours stretched into an agonizing wait. No reply.
Grief, a slow, insidious tide, began to wash over me. The weight of the lost years pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I had clung to the belief that our friendship was a constant, a force impervious to the whims of time. But time, it seemed, had other plans.
Looking back, I realize Jerr was right. There is no logic to the mechanics of human relationships. Here I was, a grown man brought to his knees by a single, unfinished text. The world kept spinning, indifferent to the wreckage of a friendship that had once been my anchor.
Tears streamed down my face, a reminder to the brutal honesty of it all. We were caught in the currents of life, buffeted by forces beyond our control. Our story, a beautiful song filled with laughter, tears, and shared dreams, remained unfinished, a testament to the fleeting nature of even the strongest bonds.
And yet, amidst the sorrow, a single ember of warmth remained. For even though the chapters had closed, the book remained. A reminder of a friendship that had once burned bright, a testament to the power of human connection, however fleeting it may be. In the end, all we have are the tears and flukes, shared between friends. And for that, I would forever be grateful… @AfroBloggers
#WinterABC24 #Friendships #Relationships #Afrobloggers https://matsikotroy.wordpress.com/2024/06/04/the-mechanics-of-friendship/
