Swimmer Adrift

Sometimes we get too far away from things.

Everyone drifts. Some more than others. Then we find ourselves one day lookng back at what once was, and we wonder how we've come to our current place.
It's not a freak thing, nor is it planned.

It just happens.

For instance, I was thinking about something I used to do regularly about 10 years ago. The activity was rock hunting. To perform this exploration, I would walk a fair distance into abandoned quarries and spend several hours digging and washing rocks looking for nice collectibles.

Sometime in there, I stopped doing it.

It was never my intention to stop doing it. I just did. Probably other responsibilities or activities just replaced the time I used for rock hunting.

Whatever the reason, it's not something I can go back to now.

My terribly arthritic hip wouldn't allow it. I've gotten too far away from the activity to stay in shape for it.

Though I don't usually think about these things, they do pop into my head now and then. And I think about them with curiosity as to why I stopped. The answer isn't always available.

Sometimes we just stop.

And then we get too far away from them.

The same can happen with people.

I did an internet search of a good friend I had in the 90s. It turns out the she died in 2009. The obituary didn't say why, but she was only about 56 years old.

We parted ways after the company we worked at closed due to her husband's death in 1998. She and he owned the company. I think I saw her twice after the closure, but all contact ceased from that point.

We got too far away from each other.

The effort to decrease our distance would have been difficult even though she lived fairly close to the company where I have been working for the last 11 years. It would have been inconvenient and time consuming.

I'm sorry I didn't make the effort.

But I refuse to regret any of this.

Most of this.

Some of this?