The maudlin recollection of missed opportunities has haunted me, recently. A snippet of a familiar song dragged me through time and space to the trip south to Lethbridge. The time - a multitude of different long-weekends, start-of-semesters, and so on.
So often I would make my way down there and make my way back, proud of the fact that I could handle the entire trip in one go. What happened to the rest-stop at the side of the road? A chance to stop and step into the tall rows of whatever grew in the endless fields I drove past?
I saw Lethbridge - and my tie there - too much as a destination rather than a journey. I spent so much time figuratively counting down the days that I missed out on a good portion of my life. The majority of the people I met there were transient in my life - existing, to me, on a temporary basis because they helped to define my time down there. Do I miss the friends I made in Lethbridge? Few of them. And yet, a snippet of a familiar song can drag me back to a time of loneliness where my solitude was absolute, recalling it with a sad fondness. Not a longing but an acknowledgement of a time when things were simpler, and much sadder. I won't dwell on these feelings, but I do think they're worth writing down.