The email that appeared on the screen had a familiar look to it. Could it be? Well, look here; it is. Old Russell was making contact. Let's see, the last time we were in communication was... Okay, it was right after Lynn and I married. So that makes it eight-and-a-half years.
I remember that last communication. He said he was going to come through the area and thought we might get together to catch up on old times. I gave him my address. I gave him my phone number. He told me he was in a new business venture. Hmmm. I'm thinking back on it now. It was something about selling some kind of vitamin supplement. He asked me if I'd be interested in hearing about it; this venture held the possibility of untold riches. I told him how very grateful I was he'd think of me. But, I said, I wasn't cut out to be a salesperson, that I knew absolutely nothing about vitamin supplements. The conversation ended shortly after that.
You know, now that I look back on it he never came through the area. Eight-and-a-half years. And there's this new email on my screen. I clicked the proper place and the email opened. He bid me greetings. He told me he couldn't believe it had been so long since we'd been in touch. He brought me up-to-date on his side of things. He's gotten a doctorate. He's teaching in a small college. He's really doing well. He says he's coming through the area soon. He wants to know if I would be interested in getting together to catch up on old times.
I'm typing in my answer now. I'm telling him that, of course, I'd be interested in getting together when he comes to the area. I suggest he call or email and let me know the specifics of when and where. I give him my phone number because it's not the same it was eight-and-a-half years ago. I hit the reply button. My email host informs me the message has been sent.
Oops. I should have reminded him of my age. I should have included in a gentle hint that because of my age he might want to make sure he comes through the area in the next decade. Otherwise, I might not be here. I might be in the home; or I might be in a place that has no phone number. But I do hope he calls. I'm dying to know what new venture he wants to interest me in now.
Now, I'm sitting here watching that “message sent” on my screen. I admit I was a bit put off that he waited eight-and-a-half years to contact me again. It was really inconsiderate. It was really taking our friendship for granted. Eight-and-a-half years of non-communication, does that qualify as friendship or should it be relegated to the realm of acquaintance? It's really kind of impudent of him to restrict our contact to once a decade. Gracious, you never really know about people, do you?
I'm turning off the computer now. And my better self is whispering in my ear. I hate it when he shows up. He's telling me I had my friend's email address and I had his phone number these eight-and-a-half years. He's whispering that I send out dozens of emails a day. He's telling me to quit blaming my friend for my lack of communication.
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