tout le temps perdu ne se rattrape plus

I'm sifting through about 700 and something emails, the stuff I never bothered to re-direct when I changed to my gmail account. It's junk and mailing list stuff but every now and again I look through it before I delete to make sure no treasure is slipping through my fingers. There is never any treasure.

Suddenly there's a name I recognise from my deep and distant 19yr old past. A girl I knew. A good friend with whom I have had tenuous contact over the past twenty years. I open it up to find halloos and the usual enquiries about what I'm doing and where I am. I'll have to deal with that and inform the her of the new administration, I think.

Then I notice another sentence. She's had an email from a once mutual friend. He sends his love.

Love?

The funny thing is, I don't really remember the details of the end of our friendship. I believe I walked away because I was feeling hurt, and then never looked back until it was far too late to return. I used to do that. It's very possible that I still do. I remember the friendship, how important he was, and how I have regretted losing touch. How I've looked for him on busses and trains and in crowded places now and again over the years and reminded myself that there is no point in looking for a 20 yr old when we are both aging. How I've wondered what he looks like, what he does. How it's a bit odd coming now, because the new administration has brought so many changes that I find myself examining all of my past relationships (platonic and otherwise) to see if I can find clues in them; so he has been on my mind recently. How I didn't find any clues, only embarrasment and regret.

He sent me love? Of all the things, I never expected that.