It is a day for almost-relationships.
I woke up thinking of a blogger-friend I met only twice but imagined at our first meeting itself that we were great, great friends. Haven’t kept in touch but the feeling stays. If only we were in the same continent, if only I’d made a little more effort. I have her number but how weird she would think it is if she were to receive a call from me at some godforsaken hour her time with me mumbling,
I was thinking of you. I really wanted to hear your voice. I don’t know why but it seemed like I must talk to you this very instant.
Yeah, right I am going to do that. I’m gone from slightly weird to spookily snooty. It was weird enough talking to another recent-friend after a hiatus. I surprised myself by the volume of joy in my voice. One of those moments I did not manage to ‘keep it down’.
How long is long enough? How close is close enough? How much distance is space enough? How much anger is enough?
It seems like there is a finite interval of time, a measurable quantity of words, a permissible dose of sarcasm/cool/venom that is ‘proper’ before it is time to move onto expressing what one actually feels. I’m waiting. Waiting for it to be long enough to trust, conversation enough to confide, paused enough to ask, cold enough to thaw. Waiting for the almost-relationships to finish incubating in my head and be born.
I’m waiting. Do let me know when it’s time.