And what do you think I found there? An email thread between the priestess and me from a little over two years ago, and which went on and on for nearly three months.
And such a revelation it turned out to be. I’d quite forgotten how strangely intense the apparent and clearly undefined connection was. I’d quite forgotten how much thought, time, and effort I’d put into writing some of the missives, and how much of the same she’d put into writing hers. I’d quite forgotten how utterly frank we were with one another, and how I’d told her things I would be unlikely to tell anyone else. And I’d quite forgotten that I had a penchant for humour back then, and it was a many-faceted attribute.
So what was it all about and where did it all go? Why did I walk quietly away and shut the door behind me one day last summer? Answer: because it’s what I do.
I confess I still think about her often. I wonder what she’s doing now and hope she’s happy and successful. It really doesn’t matter whether I do or not, of course. I also wonder whether she ever thinks of me, and that doesn’t matter either.
* * *
This morning I thought of an excellent analogy for my current state of mind. My natural inclination was to write it into a blog post because my blog is, after all, my journal, but decided against it because endless negative introspection eventually becomes terminally boring. But tonight I realised I could use the simple deflection device of writing it into a short story about a man called Joe (one of the stories my mother used to tell me as a child was about a man called Joe who got lost in the snow), and maybe I will. But I probably won’t.
* * *
This was written very quickly. It might get edited or it might not.
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