Not a bonsai, not an orchid, not a fiddle-leaf fig…
Last week I got a message completely out of the blue from my mate Will. I haven’t seen Will for years – the last time we properly hung out was probably 2012 when we were in a big band together. It made my day to hear from him.
Back in 2012 I looked forward to big band every Tuesday. I’d sit at the back with the rest of the brass section (typically one of the more boisterous sections) and play drinking games whilst Will tried to maintain control of the group. He’s an easy-going guy, but somehow managed to maintain some form of order nonetheless, even after we’d had a few gins. Probably because he was so easy-going that we felt bad acting like idiots for too long. We’d end rehearsal with a trip to the Cambridge pub around the corner, occasionally we’d end up on an impromptu gin-fuelled night out. (We were drinking gin before it was hip.)
At some point I fell out of the loop a bit. I went on a year abroad and when I returned climbing kind of took over from music. I went on a few runs with Will, but my absence from the music loop meant we didn’t see each other that often and we kind of fell out of contact. And then the other week I get this message.
I’ve been reading a lot about the so-called millennial burnout recently. The idea that keeping on top of everything – friends, work, hobbies, minor errands – is becoming overwhelming for an entire generation of now 20 – 30 year olds. I’m not sure that it’s a phenomenon unique to my age-group, but it feels comforting to know that other people feel the same sense of overwhelmedness, or at least just a touch of whelmedness, from keeping on top of things.
One of the side-effects of this millennial burnout is the guilt that you’ve fallen out of regular contact with old friends. Most of us have Facebook feeds full of people with whom – for years – our main interaction is through likes and emojis rather than real, meaningful conversation.
The difficulty is, it’s so easy to reach out and touch base that not doing so feel all the more neglectful. And you leave it longer and longer until you feel so ashamed that you resolve not to bother.
But I got this message from Will. It had been years but my reaction wasn’t ‘about bloody time’, it was just nice to hear from an old friend. We’re all busy, we all let things drop, and that’s fine because friendships aren’t necessarily needy bonsai trees. Some friendships are cacti – low maintenance and resilient.
So go on, send that old friend a message to tell them you’ve been thinking of them. Share some nostalgia, crack an inside joke… It feels good to be though of, no matter how long it’s been.
– Hati
Side note: as a child I had about 12 cacti in my room. They were my pride and joy until I forgot about them, then they all died. Maybe cacti need a bit of TLC after all.
Hati Whiteley 