Lost friends

There was a message in my inbox that I allowed to sit for more than a week before I responded to it.  It was from someone I knew, I thought he was a friend, but he changed everything.  In his message, he referred to me as a lost friend. I was nonplussed, I was not lost at all, how can I be lost, when he didn’t even look for me.

I know, I know, relationship changes, priorities, life moves on.  The purpose has been served, so off he goes. I have this concept, though that life is like a suitcase, you take everything with you, sure, the load becomes heavy, cluttered, unorganized, then we learn to fold things away, set aside, not necessary lose them or unload them. 

I cherish my past, good or bad, I learned from it all, made me stronger and hopefully a better person from when I was.  I hang on to them, the memories of a joyful past, the pains of a cruel encounter, the sting of a tongue lash, not to savor but to remember. Making certain that it remains a memory, not be relived nor repeated.