Missing a Friend

My friend, Christie, just took leave of Austin on Friday after having been here for a while. It seemed harder to say good-bye this time, and perhaps that is because I had invested so much into her visit. Starting in early December, in preparation for her visit, I went into a self-imposed lockdown [COVID-2019]. Being that she is more cautious than anyone else in any of the non-overlapping circles of friends that I have, I felt a compunction to abide by a higher standard of restraint in my social interactions. She has good reason to be cautious as some of the other folks she is visiting were particularly vulnerable to the virus that has plagued us for the last year. I’ve been cautious, but only because of my own preference for solitude and isolation, and certainly not as strict as she. Anyway, I had invested a lot of energy and focus on being available for Christie, and she stayed longer than she had intended, which I thoroughly enjoyed. So, like any habit, it’s hard to suddenly break the habit of having her around.

I’ve been watching the icon floating along the highway across west Texas trying to predict here path, and imagine her experience. I hate driving, especially the kind of driving that she loves - out on a highway where the world is scrolling slowly past. For her, I think it is cathartic; I’m not sure why. For me it’s painful and tiring. I feel a heightened sense of paranoia, ever vigilant of the cars around me. If I go to fast I become annoyed by the cars ahead of me; if I go to slow I’m annoyed by the cars on my bumper. I get annoyed at people that drive in the wrong lane, or drivers that won’t pass and block the lane. And the frustration isn’t even for me, it’s a frustration for the other drivers around me who I imagine to be annoyed. As cautious as Christie is, I have no idea why those same things don’t bother her, but they don’t seem to. She says that she likes it being out on the highway. It’s driving in the cities that she says annoys her.

Why is this so much on my mind? I have so many other things to think about, but maybe that’s just it. Thinking about Christie is simple, and regular. She doesn’t look to me for answers and she’s good at making it pretty clear what she’s looking for from me. With other friends, I don’t know if they expect me to feel outraged or excited or sad just because they are. I can usually tell what they are feeling, but I rarely actually feel what they are feeling, so it’s difficult for me to know how to react or what to say.

She’s reached Northern California and I’m feeling more comfortable just watching her icon move along the highway. Just past Redding she’ll start seeing some trees, and I know that she feels the same about the trees as I do. There’s something calming like a re-assurance that all is not lost. I get that feel when I open my windows and hear the birds, or find a toad or a lizard in the garden. Seeing that nature is abundant and resilient makes me feel like we haven’t completely destroyed the world.  It makes me feel more secure that she is getting back to Oregon, so that she can see that all is not lost and nature hasn’t gone completely insane even if, as it seems, humanity has.