Dear friend,
I promise, it’s nothing you’ve done and I’m not avoiding you. I read your text and fully intended to respond, but it was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays always feel like a bit of a massive uphill battle I can’t win.
I’m sorry.
I’d love to have lunch. Or dinner. Or cocktails. Or even just a quick coffee, but I feel like I’m just barely treading water lately. I promise, I’ll try harder. I promise, I won’t cancel next time.
Things have to slow down, eventually, right?
I’ll be the first to admit that I let my friendships fall to the wayside, and I’m grateful to you for tolerating my shitty behaviour and trying to understand. Something had to give back when I was a studying, working, single mom and for that I’m sorry.
But that was six years ago, so I guess I can’t use that as my excuse any more… can I?
It’s not that I don’t love you or want to celebrate you.
It’s not that I’m not interested or don’t care or don’t want to, but the days have too few hours and the to-do lists so many bullets and somehow I forgot how to just be the old me who was (and still wants to be) your friend.
I think of you often and try to find creative ways for us to hang out - Skype calls, phone dates, trips to visit one another.
I promise, I won’t let my decision to move away be an excuse any longer. You deserve better, and I don’t live on the moon. And to the friends who live around the corner, down the street, down the hall: please know when I told you my door is always open, I meant it.
I’m sorry our friendship has devolved from days and nights spent laughing together to a handful of texts and Facebook messages every week.
I’m sorry I blamed parenting, or my breakup, or school, or work, or whatever other thing I brought up as my excuse when I bailed (again) on our plans.
I know it’s been a while since we’ve sat together and enjoyed a glass of wine or a cup of tea, but I hope you know I still - and always will - have your back.
And I know you’re as busy as I am, so I put the call out to you:
Let’s get together. Let’s talk, and laugh, and cry, and drink wine or tea or coffee and rediscover ourselves: the women, the friends. Let’s.
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