Tongue-tied Flagellation

Call off the hounds; here I am. Thanks for checking back in. Think I can blame it all on the pumpkin pictured below? Think again.

Miles separate me from many of the people I love. Most of them would agree, to my face (and some have), that I'm terrible at keeping in touch. The ones who have stuck with me are the ones who do not take an unreturned phone call or email-- or several-- as an unspoken write-off. I'm not proud of it; I don't like it about myself, but it's true. I could blame it on being a mother and a wife and full-time employee, and I wouldn't be untruthful, except that this fact predates my current predicament. I have never been good at it.

My freshman year of college, I learned that a high-school friend was mad at me. "I thought we were close," she said, when we talked.

"We were," I agreed.

"Well it really hurt me that you didn't think I was important enough to keep in touch with." I was kind of baffled. Then, we lived in a world without the now-disruptive Facebook, Myspace or text messaging. Without any sense of malice or irony, I tried to explain that I figured since I was in North Carolina and she was in Pennsylvania, we were done. I wasn't sad or upset about it, I just figured that's how it went. She, clearly, had not. I wince now at my certainty then, but that happens a lot these days.

Another dear friend, Mindy, lives in Vermont. A couple years ago, I intended to call her on her birthday, which I always remember. Time got away from me. So instead of calling her a few days late, I didn't talk to her for at least several weeks (and if she's reading this, I'm sure she'll correct me that it was much longer than that). When I sheepishly answered the phone I explained to her, again, in all sincerity, that the reason I hadn't called was because I hadn't forgotten her birthday. "Well, I was upset that I didn't manage to call you on your birthday, because I really did remember. But then the more time passed, the worse I felt for not calling, so I just kept not calling." Because she's one of the ones that love me anyway, she laughed at my flawed logic. Still, I wish I could tell you this was an isolated occurrence. It is not.

Unfortunately, it's gotten worse. Whereas I used to think I was really busy, now I know it. And another friend, now in Texas, who has never minced words about my severe inadequacy in this area, reminds me we are all busy-- I'm not the only one. I can't argue with her point, and it's not for lack of feeling guilty or having good intentions that I don't call.

In the not yet 10 years since high school, Alex has been in Pittsburgh, Charleston, San Diego, and Southeast Asia. He called a few weeks ago to tell me he and his lovely bride have recently moved to D.C. Compared to how separated we've been, we are practically neighbors. But his call remains unreturned. He is perhaps the most persistent and patient of them all. He is the only reason we remain friends, and I'm so grateful for his persistence. If I were him, I wouldn't waste my time on me.

I don't know how people like Jennifer in Salisbury can remember not only to call and text on birthdays but also to send homemade gifts and handwritten letters. Instead, I intend to send photos of my baby playing with the gift a far-flung relative sent, but I never get around to taking or printing the photos, so I don't send the thank-you until it's embarrassingly late. I hope I've crystallized it for you.

All of this to say, yeah, I've been busy, but that's not why I haven't been here. It's been more than three months since I've written. The same friend who rightly says, "we're all busy," on one occasion told me, "I can't really believe you haven't had a few minutes alone in the car when you could have called." She was right then, and it applies now. Of course there have been occasions since August that I've been putzing around online, wondering why other people can't find the time to update their blogs. But a lot can happen in a few months.

A few months, in my daughter's case, is the difference between pureed foods and finger foods, crawling and walking, one tooth or four. For me, it's gone from barely making it through the week day to being noticed and weighing opportunities. It's losing touch with many I love and then, shockingly, hearing from a ghost I haven't known in years. So on my first day back to you, with all of that behind me, what do I choose to talk about? What do I say?

I guess I'll echo the ghost, in typical, understated fashion and say, "it's been a while," and go from there.