I like when burned bridges are rebuilt.
It renews my faith in the idea that there are just some people that are meant to be in your life.
It also reminds me that when it comes to real friendships and real connections, there is no such thing as pride. It’s easy to say sorry and to forgive when it means that you get to tell funny stories, lament about problems and maybe go to the beach together again.
I’m glad that those people in my life that I had once thought to be indispensable also feel the same way about me…whether the reason for the distance and silence in our relationship was my fault or whether they hurt me, there will always be room in my heart and in my life for these friends.
When I got that voicemail from one, I was astonished because I had been the bad guy in the relationship. If he could see me as a friend again, I am certainly not above saying how sorry I was.
When I ran into another old friend and he offered me a smile and a joke, I was just relieved that the snark and sense of humor that had once made us inseparable in high school was still intact. “I’m sorry I stopped talking to you,” I finally blurted out at the end of the night. He smiled, “All water under the bridge, Iz. This,” he gestured between us, at the invisible bond that somehow was still there 12 years later. “This doesn’t just get washed away.”
Looking back at us, at myself, at everyone else who have since walked in and out of my life…I realize that maybe there really isn’t much that cannot be forgiven after all. Time does heal old wounds. Age gives us wisdom to blunt the edges of our pride. Love, laughter and the memories drawn from those may sometimes fade, but remember, the heart is a muscle…and muscle memory is pretty powerful. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to pick up old friendships right from where you left off. It’s just like riding a bike!
Today, I’m just grateful for water under the bridge…and for bridges that were burned, but were somehow rebuilt over time.