I ran into a former flame tonight, strangely enough the encounter was on our old stomping grounds. Not his stomping grounds, nor my stomping grounds – for then the occurence would merely be a highly probable coincidence, but rather our stomping grounds – the place where our relationship was cultivated and flourished.
As we sat there, in such a familiar position, swapping stories and catching each other up on the last nine months of our lives – I was struck by the strange juxtaposition of the moment. A familiar intimacy and shared rememberance of times past, coupled with a sense of unfamiliarity and confusion. There were no sparks, no desire for the chance meeting to continue into a longer conversation over coffee, no longing for a rekindling of the relationship. Just the sense that this was someone who I used to know very well and whose interests used to be of supreme imporantance to me. And while I still care, to a degree, for the most part he could barely hold my interest for a ten minute conversation that was chockful of new information, whereas earlier we could have hour long conversations even when there was nothing new to say to one another.
How do we lose that spark? Where does it go? How is possible that when neither party has truly changed all that drastically — that the tenor of the relationship is so altered? In our absence from one another’s lives, how did we drift so very far apart. When we are searching for our prince (or princesses), the “one” – do we assume that, with them, the spark will never fade, wither and die? Or is it merely that we will experience change together, rather than separately – and that the sharing of that experience prevents it from being divisive?