TheBanyanTree: Prairie Dog Friends

[Monique Colver]

*Now at www.mcolver.wordpress.com*

Ever have a friend who disappears for years at a time? And you don’t know
if they’ve been 1) eaten by bears, 2) ran afoul of the law, 3) decided to
avoid you, or 4) are so wrapped in living their life that they just haven’t
gotten back to you?

I have several! At least three! Occasionally one will pop up, like a
prairie dog, sticking their nose out for the briefest nanosecond (I’m not
sure how big a nanosecond is, but it sounds small), and then they’ll duck
back under, as if they think you won’t notice they were even there. And
when that happens, I have to say, “what the hell?”

There’s a lovely woman in the Midwest who once made the effort to travel to
California to be in my wedding. IN the wedding. And I only had one person
in my wedding, so it was sort of a big deal. That would be my California
wedding, not my Oregon wedding, obviously – those women still like me, but
it’s only been five years. Then she faded away . . . of course, the Stew
years saw a lot of people fading away, whether my fault or theirs, but it
happened. The whole mental thing is, so I hear, highly contagious. But
every so often, she’ll pop up, my own personal prairie dog, and send me an
email telling me all about her life and what she’s been up to and promising
to keep in touch.

And so I, stupidly, respond with an email, telling her how delighted I am
to hear from her. I keep these follow-ups short because my experience has
been that there will be no response for at least a year, maybe two or
three, and there’s no sense extending myself when there’s a pretty good
chance she doesn’t even bother to read her email.

Sure enough, it’s as if the entire thing never happened. As if I imagined
it. Maybe I did. I could go look in my email, but frankly, I’m too lazy.

And it’s not as if I have anything against people living their lives – in
fact, I’m all in favor of it. I’m certainly fond of living mine. And not
everyone is as desperate for human contact as I am. (Did I just say that
out loud? Where people can hear me?) But if I wanted a prairie dog for a
friend I’d move out to where prairie dogs live and make some new ones.

No, I don’t mean that. I’m just going through a phase.

I’m also going through a let’s-not-be-judgmental phase. It’s a pain in the
freakin’ ass, let me tell you. I’m being all nice and accepting people for
who they are, but then I want to say, “Hey! Get with the program!”

No, that’s not true. I accept you in all your human frailties because, look
at this, I’ve got tons of them myself! I’ve overloaded with human frailties
in fact. Just today someone flipped me off when they perceived that I cut
them off in traffic. Please note, I said “perceived.” As in, I won’t admit
to it. If I did do it, which of course I didn’t, because I’m a perfect
driver, it’s because I honestly didn’t see them. (I was too busy thinking
about my prairie dogs.)

Anyway, they flipped me off, and I thought, “Wow, did that make you feel
better?”

Well, maybe it did. Every time someone annoys me, say they make a U-turn
where the sign says NO U-TURNS because it’s in the way of traffic and
they’re putting everyone around them in danger, I think, “Oh well, no one’s
perfect.”

What was my point? Oh, right – my human frailties. Apparently I’m a bad
driver. I also am terrible at getting thank you cards out, and I’m whiny. I
could go on and on, but it looks like I’m just making a case for why people
disappear for so long.

But I’m fun! I am!

Here’s my point, in case you were wondering. If you are a prairie dog, you
can go ahead and be one. Really. It’s okay. Maybe you thought you wanted to
get back in touch with me and then realized who I am and changed your mind.
Maybe life got busy. It does that. I’m fairly certain I’m not the only one
this happens to, so it’s not as if I’m taking it personally. (Well, sort
of, but I take everything personally.) And if you should start to think,
“It’s been too long, I feel bad for not getting in touch sooner, so I’ll
just put it some more . . .” Don’t. Don’t think it’s been too long, I mean.
(I certainly did not mean Do Not Get In Touch.) It’s never been too long,
and you just get around to it when you get around to it.

Unless I’m dead. Then it’s been too long. But that’s not looking like it’s
going to happen soon.

Unless I get hit by a truck.

But I’ll stay out of the way of trucks just in case.