Another 10 years in Flaming June

They move on quickly now, the years. ”With lies you may go forward. But you can never go back”.
I’m hard on myself, harder than I am on others. I don’t read the self-help volumes anymore, occasionally I come across these platitudes, digital tapestries hanging in Facebook, ’be nice to yourself’.
What if you’re an arsehole?

I’m not though.
It’s just that, on occasion, I’ve behaved like one.

It’s been 10 years since I saw Frank. I hear about his 50th birthday party, through Facebook (how else) and I wonder why I’m not invited. I’m hard on myself of course. Did I do something wrong?
I didn’t. But it’s been 10 years since I saw him, we’re no longer in touch. Off the radar.
Driving down the coast I call in to see Danny, the last 10 years have been hard on him. Twice he fought off cancer, only narrowly escaping with his life. He won’t be so lucky if it goes to round three. We ride out into the barrio as dusk turns to night, and talk about those things. Actually, I don’t talk much, it would be audacious to speak. I listen to tales from the cancer ward. And then perhaps worse still, the years of poverty. Grinding years which still stretch ahead for him. His positivity is the most saddening thing.

He tells me about the party, who else was there. I wonder why I wasn’t invited, and I choose the simplest and most likely explanation. I went off the radar.

Years ago, I use to favour complexity, I prefer simplicity these days.