Inner Harvesting

3-20-2024

There are dear friendships which are deeply held and felt but only last a season.  A short summer of knowing and being known, of laughter and meaning one only experience in their now ancient youth.  Those friends tangled only in care and kindness.  I talked to one of those friends last night, barely passing, me here, they there.  It was on the phone.  I am an image bearer, hearing voices but only able to know images.  They sounded 16 but time, that enemy of images, couldn’t connect me to them.  I am beginning the life of longing for the image, the person, the who these were to me those many years ago; a way to live meaning, knowing those dear old young ones. But regrettably and like the song, “Just for a moment, I was back at school, and felt the old familiar pain.  And as I turned to make my way back home.  The snow turned to rain…”, we never really met.