Ten years had passed since I`d seen him.� Ten years.� There was a time when we spoke every day; we visited each other often - sometimes monthly - and we were very much a part of each other`s lives.� Time can get to the best of friendships, though. �Something happens and that last phone call never manages to reconnect again.� Soon you say, "I need to call him," but it never happens and that pause lengthens into days, months, and then years.� Before long, the thought of contacting him has metamorphosed into discomfort.� The discomfort disappears, though, as various other people float in and out of your life to distract the inner feelings.� Little triggers make you jump now and then, and there`s a shot in the arm of sadness from the memory of him, but it fades quickly.

Then, on one very normal Tuesday, out of the blue, I received a text message from said stranger advising me that he`d be in Phoenix for some conference, and that he`d like to see me.� An awkward question mark ballooned in my head as I wondered how this could be happening.� We weren`t supposed to reach out to each other after so many years of adjusting to the discomfort.� In response, I say, "Sure," and we agree to meet for sushi in a week.

The week flies by, of course, and various memories fill my head all the while that I`d once discarded in a mental filing cabinet somewhere.� Things begin to resurface that seemed unreal; things that were so deep within that I had to double-check if they actually existed.� And then, as I prepared for our dinner, I conjured up so many questions; simple questions, and complex ones all the same. �Realistically, though, I guess there was only really one questionthat I needed an answer on.

We awkwardly shook hands when I picked him up at his hotel.� He had strong hands, and he looked the exact same as I remembered him.� His dress style was the exact same as the last time I`d seen him, except that he now wore glasses.� Immediately, I told myself that I like him in glasses, and suddenly I felt 22 again and pining after somebody who didn't want my pining to begin with. It felt different now, though.� I somehow felt stronger and held a clearer disposition. I thank maturity for that one.� Fortunately for me, however, there wasn`t an awkward silence like I thought there would be; it was like we were still best friends after all this time.� We still had that same boyish connection.� This is how it would be if we still talked regularly, I thought, and if he wasn`t just somebody that I used to know.

Dinner was filled with strolls down memory lane in every which direction.� Spicy tuna rolls, inside jokes and discussions of childhood follies seemed to rule the majority of the evening.� We also talked coldly about life`s big moments that we had both missed out on; his wedding, the birth of his two kids, his home in northern California.� I discussed my degrees, coming out of the closet, finding an amazing boyfriend - after dating countless losers - and the huge focus on my career.� All the while, though, I knew what we both were thinking as little moments of silence surfaced between us every now and then; I knew we were asking ourselves why there was this empty galaxy between us now, and - more importantly - if were we happy with it.

After dinner, I knew his answer.� When I dropped him back athis hotel, he sat in the passenger seat, not really even moving.� He stared straight ahead with tears in his eyes as he confessed that he wasn`t happy with his life.� Nothing in his life seemed right, he said.� His marriage, his career, the people around him; they just didn`t work.� He told me that he needed me around more.� He valued our friendship the same as he did when we were kids.� He told me that it upset him when I wasn`t at his wedding.� Softly, I confessed that I threw out the invitation when I got it.� He didn`t ask why.� Instead, he asked if I`d continue to reach out more.� I nodded.

As he exited the vehicle and we gave each other a hug, I knew I`d never see him again.� I was lying about reaching out to him in the future; it'd be pointless and masochistic.� I knew that our childhood memories would be the only breath of life between us. �He`d probably never be in Phoenix again, and I`d never see any part of his life in that small California town.� As hard as it was, that was my answer.� Sometimes friends just grow apart, whether it`s because of grown-up commitments or altering personalities, but other times there is the more unfortunate ending and your old friend just has to become somebody that you used to know.