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Archiver > BLACK > 1998-12 > 0914322458


From: "Lori A. Quest" <>
Subject: [BLACK-L] The Rift
Date: Tue, 22 Dec 1998 10:27:38 +0000


Merry Christmas everyone!!! In this story, the person reached out on a
friend's birthday... Christmas is the best "birthday" to reach out to
someone you might have lost touch with. I know how hard it gets as
time passes and we are caught up in our "busy" lives...Often we are so
busy looking at the "past" that we neglect our "present"..... the more
time that passes, the guiltier we feel for not calling or writing or
visiting or sending an e-mail.... and so we let more time pass until we
don't call at all. Please take some time during this season to get
back in touch...
I'm going to try and take my own advice!!! I wish you all Peace &
Joy this Christmas season and all year long. Lori

The Rift

I sit perched on the edge of my bed, faint smiles drifting across
my face, as I sift through all my
old photographs. My sleeves pushed up over my elbows, I dig down
into all the old memories. I
hold each memory briefly in my hands before dropping it onto the
pile in my lap and searching for
the next happy moment to remember. Each picture evokes feelings
long gone, but deep within
me. I'm not exactly sure what has prompted this sudden trip to my
past, but I feel like I need to
stop, and look back.

As I continue to relive the memories, I can't help but notice one
photo in particular buried deep in
the box. I pluck it from the sea of snapshots and hold it in my
hands. The picture at first glance is
lovely. The sun was shining with not a cloud to be seen in the
bright blue canopy that hung high
over my head. I was sitting with my arm around a happy looking
girl, her arm rested casually on
my shoulders. As I focus in on the person's face, the warm smile
that covers my face is replaced
by an agitated frown. It is Amy Soule, my now ex-best friend. A
terrible pang of regret flashes
through me, and I feel the familiar constriction in my throat.

I'm not sure exactly how, or when our decline as friends started,
but it started small. A simple
crack that flourished in our awkward adolescence and shameful
neglect. It began with simple
differences in interest. She wanted to go to the mall and scout for
guys, while I wanted to spend
the evening watching old movies and talking about nonsense gossip.
Suddenly after school
activities took up our usual time together and weekends were spent
doing other things. Soon the
only time I saw her was when we exchanged a hurried hello in the
busy school halls between
classes. A far cry from the whispered conversations behind my half
open locker at every spare
moment. No more notes were passed behind the teacher's back, and my
parent's phone bill
became considerably cheaper. She found a new group of friends, and
so did I. Before I had a
chance to patch the crack between us, she moved away from me,
causing the crack to become
an uncrossable rift.

I tried to make excuses for not keeping in touch. I couldn't visit,
it was too far and I couldn't ask
Mom to drive me all that way. I even tried to convince my nagging
conscience with the notion that
people change, I matured, and that is why. I knew that was not the
answer, but I was too nervous
to pick up the phone and call. The rift grew too large to bridge,
Amy had left, and with her she
had taken a huge chunk of heart with her.

I stand up and stretch my cramping limbs. Pulling myself back into
the now, I let the picture fall
from my hand onto my cluttered desk. I glance up at my calendar and
remember that Amy's
birthday is around the corner. In fact, we were born in the same
room, two days apart. It had
always been a good-natured joke between us that she was two days
older than I. We started so
close, and ended up so far. This bitter sweet memory causes me to
smile despite my feelings of
regret. I suddenly have an idea. I hastily drop to my knees and
begin to rummage through my
desk drawers. At last I lay my hands on an old picture frame I have
been kicking around forever.
I pick up the fallen photo of Amy and I snap it into the frame. I
quickly pen a note, and for lack of
anything better to say, I simply write, "Happy Birthday Amy, Erica"

I stick the piece of white paper under the edge of the frame and
search for Amy's address. I hold
the frame tightly in my arms. I am not going to let this golden
chance slip through my fingers. It's
not much, but it is a beginning and the space between us has
already gotten smaller. Maybe this
time I will be strong enough to build a bridge.

from A Second Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

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