In the last few days I’ve made a conscious effort to reach out to people. My MO included using email and Telus as conduits when in-person wasn’t possible. While I am quite content with my own company or with staying home with Roy, that lifestyle is perhaps not the healthiest?or the most fun.

With a finite amount of time for doing anything, our choices become even more important. Since the birth of Grady two and a half years ago, we spend more time with our son and his wife and their precious boy. That is as it should be; It’s simply too important a relationship to leave to chance. But while I’m in Sherwood Park quite often to see Grady, I don’t have time to see Elaine or Bonny for coffee and to catch up. Why is that?

I’m old enough to remember a time when families got together to visit, when couples met regularly to play cards, and when Sundays were a day for visiting. Why is there no time for that now?

I was feeling guilty that I haven’t seen Chuck, an Edmonton friend, even though I’m near his place of work every three weeks or so. Yet why is that a surprise when It’s been ages since we’ve seen friends who live only 20 minutes away? A trip to Edmonton always includes a laundry list of errands, appointments, and shopping for business or pleasure. The day is action-packed, filled with urgency, and often dissatisfying in terms of what is actually accomplished.

The road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions. When I called Susan to offer our condolences for the loss of their brother-in-law, we promised again to get together ?soon.? When I popped in to see Vonnie at work, we crammed months of updates into a few minutes. We made concrete plans to visit at a perogy supper in late November to hear the rest of each other’s stories. We admit we’re not telephone people. Besides, no one wants to make personal calls in the evening; most of us are just plain pooped, drained by the efforts of the day.

Three of us talked about not going to community dances anymore. It seems that most of our generation doesn’t dance. Trying to converse over the din of the music seems fruitless, especially with everyone’s hearing fading. So we stay home.

There is no adequate?or acceptable?explanation for the drifting apart. We still have history and common memories. No one is becoming a millionaire from all the work being done. (Maybe That’s it; everyone is scrambling to avoid losing ground.) No one is jetting off to exotic locales or lounging about eating bonbons. Why is there insufficient time or motivation to reconnect? My sister Sherry tries really hard. She hosted a potluck dinner in the spring with the intention of starting a monthly rotation among our group. Never happened. I wrote about a regular games night; it never happened either.

I don’t see an easy answer. November is already a write-off (sorry!) for me with NaNoWriMo. And December doesn’t look so good either, from where I sit.