I’m obsessed with my friendships lately.

I wonder why it is we drift from some never to see again or even think of while there are those I may see once every five years and it’s like we just saw each other yesterday? When do you know this a forever relationship, a kindred spirit or the ships passing in the fog?

I’ve pondered this lately because one of my writer friends (a sister of words) is moving to the Boston area. For the past few months we’ve “met” as a critique via video chat. This past weekend, we got together to write (okay, and drink too). It was the chance to stay close despite the physical distance between us.

It got me to thinking about the other friendships – the ones that have taken a dive.

What about those relationships that seemed tight, everlastingly connected? The people you thought would be there at all the stages of your life? What caused the relationship to fade, to drift away from us like the white puffs of cottonwood in the humid breezes of June?

Perhaps one of us takes the road often traveled, commuting on a treadmill of normalcy. Another hikes the overgrown trail in the forest while someone else journeys the straighter route. You’ve chosen the scenic drive. When you meet again there is little to talk about because if you share something of your journey or new interests, there is no excitement, no desire to learn of or discuss the new world you occupy. They (or me) are trapped in a bubble of our own making.

Did our life’s works drive a wedge in our friendships? These days it’s more likely to be politics. For the sake of the argument, let’s take that divisive topic off the table.

I know I’m guilty of drifting away from friendships where there is a loss of common ground or in some cases their need of my support was too exhausting. Too much time listening to seventh grade dynamics of why Johnny won’t call me back or do I think he has a chance with Patty? How would I know? Ask me if I care? I moved on from junior high a very long time ago.

What of the friendships where I see the fissures in our common ground? Do I call in a professional to help? Do I contemplate this issue a bit longer? Or should I just watch to see how far the fissure expands without trying to stop its growth? Did I miss that chance at our winter get together? Why is it that months after last seeing other, I now have the suspicion that we won’t?

I’ve listed more questions that I thought I would. I don’t have the answers other than I am cognizant of the state of those relationships. I can decide to keep trying, or cut loose the dead weight – the branches that no longer bear fruit, the underbrush that chokes the sunlight before it can reach its full depth.

I may not be the smartest person, but I will take advantage of my common sense and my ability to look within. Because although I may point a finger at someone or something that I think is the root of the problem, I know I have three fingers pointing back at me.