The truth is, I’m horrible at keeping in touch. There’s an undeniable pattern. I pack up and leave some place so dear to me and people so precious to me, with sweet promises of keeping in touch. But what portion of my promises do I keep? How many people have I written so far? How many postcards have I signed, sealed and dropped into the mailbox?
It’s a disease, this inability I have to keep people afar in check. I am so consumed with my present, with the life that unfolds around me, and I truly hate myself for that. You might think I’m out and about, doing things I want, living the life, but honestly, sometimes I find myself more alone than ever as I walk alone in shopping malls or eat at some stall by the roadside. And the looks I get, those pitiful looks on the expressions of the people I get for being alone. That alone could be a story for me to craft to some of the precious friends I’ve got. But I don’t. I don’t understand myself.
I guess I’m writing again, in this blog, after such a long hiatus, to hopefully explain myself to some people who have been really good at checking up on me from time to time. Owning a smartphone has only, rather paradoxically, made me spend less time offline. The times I do go on Facebook, is the time when I look you up. Yes, you, the friends I’m writing to. This is honest to goodness, the first time I’ve used my Macbook in three months. Somehow working life has repelled me from utilizing anything technological outside of work (aside from the wonderful machines like the fridge, microwave, my phone i.e. source of music for the tired heart).
So I beg that you understand I have parcelled every memory of you and you into some very special compartments of my heart. But there is a weakness in me to just be content with these stories and pictures because I know, every step along the way, our lives take us to so many new adventures that they will remain just that, memories. Our paths become so divergent and we, ourselves, change independently of one another. Even if this is not a valid reason and the truth may be that I am just the crummiest person in the whole world, please know that you are remembered and sorely missed. And that, is a truth.
“The best thing about a picture is that it never changes, even when the people in it do” – Andy Warhol
This is for you, Samina, Ainul, Imi, Jamal, Helen, Kudzi, Nancy, Last, Judith, Claire, Bongi, Fatou, Adam, Kat, Hanaa etc.