My story is about a natural love lost, then found; of hesitancy and regret; and of the kindness of time. In that sense, it is a story about us all.
Claire had known Knox since kindergarten. They were best friends then, playing together, choosing each other for coloring partners, and hanging their coats side by side. But as often happens during growing up years, they grew apart. They exchanged
shy smiles in school hallways, attended sports events and concerts where they sat close enough to glance but not to speak, even attended the same parties where they might begin a conversation which interruption prevented them from finishing. Never a goodbye. Only a studied, unnoticed look or furtive glance. Graduation sealed their separation, a way-parting that left each feeling a little empty, though introspection skirted around the possibility of the childhood affection being the cause of it.
Five years is a long time, but then again, not that long.
“Claire?”
Her heart beat quickened slightly as she turned. “Knox! Is that you? What are you doing back in town? Last I heard . . . not that I . . . I mean . . .”
“I’m back for an interview in Cartersville tomorrow morning.”
“Cartersville!’
He nodded and they stood, each trying to think of something to fill up the space between them. In between stutters and false starts, they agreed to meet for supper that evening. But it didn’t happen. Claire’s father had a heart attack and she was called away.
Twenty-five years is a long time, but then again, not that long. Knox grabbed the nurse’s notes as he walked into the hospital room of a new patient, then stopped in his tracks.
Claire shrugged.
Knox cleared his throat and studied the notes in his hand.
“How is your foot feeling?”
Claire grimaced, then began laughing – a good alternative to crying. And he laughed with her until they both had to wipe tears away. Small talk distracted from pressure on bruised skin, and they caught up on unimportant matters.
And every so often they would see each other – through life’s stages, marriage, children, gain and loss. And they might speak, but something always interfered and finally ended the conversation.
Forty years is a long time, but then again, not that long. It was at a large party of old friends, they once more found each other: uncoupled by death, living lives as fully as they could muster. Those forty years and their accompanying experiences and lessons did what Claire and Knox could not manage on their own. In a finger snap the familiar hesitancies fell away. The stutters. The shyness. The putting up with interference. They were friends again; the kind whose ideas piqued the other’s curiosity, who found the same things amusing, and whose intuition told them what words do not.
And they were right.
Dear friends, lose not the simplicity of first friendships though time’s waves push them far. Put away self-consciousness long enough to speak truly and listen thoughtfully. For love, once lost, does not need to be lost forever. It can be found, though space and time shout otherwise. It can be found.
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