New Old Aches

I can feel it in my bones. Like an old ache that is all too foreboding for the devastation to come. When I was younger, I couldn't anticipate a friendship starting to crumble. It happened all at once like a ten minute tsunami. All I had to do was blink and the landscape flipped to rubble. All I could do was stare, dazed at the destruction it left behind.

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Every time I lost a friend I was left staggering at how hard it was to rebuild. Not only did I have to find a new home, I had to clear the debris of the old one that crumbled. Like sorting through old knick knacks, I would find myself distracted by the old memories and confused at how happiness could sour like that. How sugar could taste so bitter? Or was it always salt?

Now the story feels too familiar to ignore. Like the first hole in your favorite t-shirt, I know there are only more tears to mend in the future. But I can't help but hope that this shirt will be the exception. That is will somehow outlive the rest because I love it enough to wear it with holes. But I guess everything has an expiry date. Even if I willingly turn a blind eye to it.

At least this one didn't go bad like dairy. At least.

At least this one lasted like a good t-shirt. At least.

How long can I ignore the ache in my bones? When will these growing pains stop growing? Why doesn't the pain stop feeling familiar, but instead, grow irritatingly friendly? Like a teacher that likes you but you hate? Like a relative that just can't take the hint? Why is it so hard to let go?

I can see this friendship growing cracks. And although I am willing to keep cracked porcelain, any fool would know not to put their finest tea in cracked china. Do I have room on my shelf for antics? Or do I want to display only the finest?

Out with the old, in with the new, they say. If only it were that simple.