The Contingency Plan

The sadness is heavy. And I wish it weren't so. It's the kind that sticks, just under my skin in a slow and lukewarm bubble. It piles on the kilos. Bloats. I wish I felt elated and empowered but I feel droopy. Turgid.

She distributes a newsletter of poetry each week. It's simple but beautiful. There are themes. Sometimes the words are borrowed, other times they are her craft, but either way she creates an introduction and summary purely worth reading on their own. She sent one to me today.

The words are brilliant. They are vibrant, happy and quite delicious. I used to devour them, but now they leave such a sour taste in my mouth and the sourness iritates my insides.

I have so many other friends so I don't know why Ali still bothers me. I feel safe in the friendship of these people, we have a long history, they make me laugh, they know my tic and tock, so why? I don't understand.

Perhaps I'll ask to be taken off the list. The words upset.

strange relationship, indeed. but not so. pregnancy. women not only handle this change differently, but they also develop different alliances--friendships honestly come and go. sometimes i wonder if it is a Western myth/dream-wish that loyalties abound?

if i had a daughter, i would teach her this. that way her expectations of other women would not exceed what they can produce . . .

in your specific case, i suspect that one day, and you may never know it, this woman will regret the choices she made regarding your friendship.

i agree. i understand friendships come and go, pregnancy can do the unexplained and expectations are a challenge to control, but doesn't the bond of friendship come from a basis that includes trust and loyalty?

i can see why you'd question this, but i still think without it there's no openess and vulnerability.

it's often the expectation bit i stumble on. i used to think i should have no expectation of anyone, but found it's nearly impossible. i'll always expect the basics - like them intending to return a phone call or email message.

most days i don't think about ali, but reading her newsletter reminded me of some of our good times, and there are days nostaglia affect me more than others. i'm sure it'll fade.