I was a bit late meeting them. I've tended to be a bit late for things these days. Five more minutes of sleep. Shirts that really do need to be ironed before I can wear them out of the house. Too many papers or reports or notes or things that I have to take with me for the day which I scramble around to find before leaving. Or maybe a hurried sip of coffee before running out the door.
This time it wasn't really my fault. Lorna was the one who was late, and she was driving. We arrived at the restaurant about 30 minutes later, and the others had already dug into a spinach cheese appetizer.
Don't get me wrong, I loved being there, but perhaps my chronic tardiness has made me see things with a new perspective. Or perhaps I've simply redeveloped an old perspective.
I sat, enjoying the laughter and stories. Thoughtfully responding to questions of love and life and dreams. Krista still a little jet lagged from a recent trip. Jess with stories and examples from her family, the slightly older and wiser perspective. Leah quietly slipping in her early acceptance to med school, so discretely we almost missed it.
Despite the wonderful conversation, I began drifting out of it and watching the tables around me. The couple sitting right beside each other. The table of women, who, having run away from husband and child and abandoning all else, gathered for an evening of dress up, drinks and dessert. There were old friends, and families, and just the guys and couples and the inlaws.
And although it was just one evening, that's how most gatherings appear from my perspective. They are my friends and yet I don't really belong. I observe and fail to truly become connected. It's all very superficial really,
she said.