Sometimes, people come in and out of our lives without our consciously realizing it. Perhaps it was because we were merely neighbors, or classmates, or coursemates, or colleagues, or friends of the family, or maybe even, friends of friends. Brought together by mere circumstance, chance meetings, or quirks of fate, we found ourselves traveling the same road for the meantime, spending days, or months, or even semesters together. Yet with the turning of the season, we had to move on.

Some of them we kept in touch with, others just seemed to have disappeared, or perhaps, even drifted away. We would still see them, of course, passing corridors, drowsing on benches, drinking at parties. But our roads were mapped for different destinations; our hearts programmed for different vocations. And so, the traveled path worn smooth by our common striving broke-up in branches, turned the corner, and went its own way.

We had our season. Allgoodthingsmustcometoanend.

Sometimes, though, if we are lucky, those divergent roads turn the bend again to find them intersecting, in an entirely unexpected and delightfully comforting way. As it was when it started— by mere circumstance, chance meeting, or quirk of fate— we face one another again, after years or moments, somewhat older, chipped on the edges, yet glad to meet a familiar face.

We come together on lazy Saturday afternoons, or surreptitious YM conversations, bringing reports of our struggles with the world. We catch-up, politely at first, but later on, resurrecting memories of those days, or months, or even semesters shared together. We may even get a glimpse of who we used to be, during that portion of the shared journey.

We realize many things, but of these many, I suspect that upon this intersection, we find that we have changed very little, essentially, from who we were when we were still ourselves. Strangely, mysteriously, we find that we are exactly the same people we used to know, intact, only slightly weathered and slightly worn.

And we realize, also, only because we had forgotten: that in those idle moments between days, or months, or even semesters shared together, we had, in the meantime, unconsciously, effortlessly, become good friends.

We just needed to be reminded.

* * *

The following letter was something I wrote to a former English blockmate and coursemate in Management Engineering. We had lost touch after our sophomore year, she having chosen to shift courses, and later on, entering into a relationship, and I, shifting into Philosophy a semester after.

After getting to talk to her again after such a long time, she reminded me of this letter, and how she had treasured it as the years had passed. I wrote it in response to an email she had sent us following her decision to shift out of Management Engineering. She scanned and sent it to me, almost eight years after I had written it.

It was interesting reading the letter, because I no longer had any recollection of having written it. But reading through it, seeing my old letterhead, my old cellphone and pager numbers, and my expired sky-i-net address, it was a pleasant rush of memory. It even amazed me how well I used to write then, without reservation, cynicism or jadedness.

Strangely, though, I think that I still would have told her the same things now, in a different tone, perhaps, or a different expression. But the same things nonetheless. It comforted me to know that somehow, some things will never change.

* * *

* * *

Thank you for the reminder, J.

And K, I hope that this has answered your question.