When Last We Were

Two people pass one another, they are friends, they deliver a hello and good-bye in the same gesture of a single nod. Only one doesn't know its likely to be the final version of such a moment. One takes for granted, the succession of preceding circumstance; that such a situation shall continue indefinitely based solely on the availability in and of the past up to its present point of reference. Furthermore, unconscious is the thought residence of the alteration that may visit upon any circumstance and change its situation. When one sees their friend whom they see from time to time regularly, its not irregular to assume this sight will once again repeat some more as it has, previously up to the last time the two saw one another.

A friend of mine was fired yesterday. Not knowing of her dismissal, I passed her on the street. I didn't gather note of any peculiar difference in her, I would never have guessed she had just been let go. However, as soon as I received wind of her forced departure I realized that when I passed her on the street moments ago, that moment, might just successfully candidate itself as the last time I'll ever see her. The probable end to the brief interaction of life as experienced consciously between her and I.

For there is an absolute lack of reason why I should see her again. I have not her phone number, email, address, nor any example of correspondance to utilize as medium. As a matter of fact, I don't even know if she knew my name. I don't feel she should have, just as theres an abundancy of naught reason why I should possess a mean of sorts to continue interaction with her.

She worked in the neighbor store to mine and all that constitutes this attention I now serve her, is simply a notice within me; spotlit on the general assumption I entertain as habit:


How many friends has one nodded, kissed and hugged good-bye...Inadequately so. An inadequate good-bye because if one knew it was to be farewell for good and ever, one would have smiled much warmer, kissed and hugged much longer, watched with recording eyes all the final details to get the memory freshly established as accurately as possible. One fears memory compensates for the missing material in modes unauthorized by authenticity. Which inspires humor in the manner memory gains substance once the subject is absent from your conscious life...May be why the artist is usually worth more un-live...Or, lovers loved more when time conspires with memory to romanticize all trivialities and disregard the nuisances that bid clear reason as to why that person is no longer part of one's life.

In any case, I am uncertain what I would have said or done, had I known it was the last time I'd see my friend, any of them for that matter. I suppose it best this way. I'm rather close to the idea of assuming my friends will be there tomorrow, so long as there is no dependency involved. And if they are not there tomorrow, then there is always a past to remember when they were, when last we were.

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