I went to a graduation party last weekend for some of my undergrad friends who have that long-coveted Baccalaureate degree. It was a fun time, and since, as much as we care about each other, I'm not super-duper-see-you-every-day-close (which is a pity, they're fabulous), it was a delightful honor to be invited.
As I was giving one of them a hug, one who has already left town by now, and whom I've known for the entire time she's been in school here, I suffered a huge pang of regret. As much as I respect and love these people, I wish that I'd spent more time with them. I have nobody to blame but myself, of course, but the simple fact is that there's a natural limit to how many people can practically be in one's life, and at what level of involvement. I hate that. I love my chosen career and the activities it brings, but I also love a lot of the people in my life. Sometimes I wish I could just retire and be a professional friend. There are so many fabulous people out there and as full of them as my life is, I still only know a tiny sliver of them.
Apparently I'm waxing meloncholy lately on the blog. Times of transition have a tendency to do that to me, and I think overall it's healthy to take some time out and reflect on the big picture. I'm sure things will return to normal soon, however, so don't run away just yet.
