Somewhere in the world there is a contemplative easy-going blond girl celebrating her twenty-eighth birthday. I think she is on the East Coast. I think I found her phone number via the magic of Google, but I'm not going to call. What if it's a wrong number? What if it's not?
I spent an hour trying to track down her sister's email address, but she got married and I don't know her new last name. Her dad has a fancy job now, the kind that doesn't post your email address online. I have no idea how to contact her, which is strange, because I thought we would be friends until we were gray old ladies, seeing each other every few years, calling each other on our birthdays.
My 26th birthday was the very first birthday I did not get a call.
I can't decide how sad I am. I thought if this ever happened I would be heartbroken, but now I wonder if this is just the natural string of things. Friends move away, lose touch. Even friends who have spent their whole lives moving and vow to stay connected, it's easy to forget. I'm pretty good at keeping touch. If you haven't heard from me in a while, I'm well aware of it and most likely I feel guilty. I miss her. I should have a working phone number or at least an email address. She hardly ever answered emails.
When I left my good friends in one place, she took up that lonely spot until I finally made friends in the next new place. It was a long time, several years, and even afterwards she would visit and I'd be ecstatic and we would go right back to being each other's favorite person.
I'm glad Phillip got to meet her.
I always ALWAYS called on her birthday.
I think I'm very sad after all. Happy birthday, Anna.
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