Rosemary Nissen-Wade: Aussie poet and teacher of metaphysics – a personal view
My bestie nicknamed me SnakyPoet on her blog, and I liked it. (It began as
'the poet of the serpentine Northern Rivers' and became more and more abbreviated.)
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Wednesday, August 03, 2016

The Passing of Time

Long ago we were friends at school. She was top of the class at just about everything. I went to her wedding. Then we both moved away and gradually lost touch, somewhere between my marriages, divorces and changes of location. 60 years or so later, she finds me on facebook. 

Her profile shows a handsome, vibrant older woman, tastefully dressed, and reveals the distinguished academic career I would have expected. It seems she is single now – whether from widowhood or divorce, I can’t tell. But there are daughters and grandchildren. 

I respond with delight. Ask what she’s been up to. Catch her up on my life. She sends a polite, brief, uninformative reply. Time passes. I go looking for her timeline. I have trouble realising that the old woman in the latest photos is her. It is, though. 

Her face is very wrinkled; her arms are wrinkly too. She has opted for comfortable clothes and no make-up. Her droopy old boobs flop on her saggy belly. Am I imagining that vacant look in her eyes? She is always photographed now with groups of women around her own age. They are on outings at the beach en masse (not dressed for swimming), deck chairs in a row. Or they are sitting around a table, making artificial flowers.
The brightest girl in school!

She is only six weeks older than me.

I wonder if one of her daughters is managing her facebook account.

I let go of the possible renewal of our old rapport.

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