It seems funny to me, somehow, that my last post on this little blog is called “arguing with calendars.” I grappled with my father’s 60th birthday, and yet made no mention of the fact that I turned 25. Or that I attended my 10th anniversary Coachella. I have nothing new to say besides noting that time keeps passing and I continue to vacillate between willing it to stop and missing its passing entirely. This blog recently turned 3 and I failed to acknowledge that in any way, other than, perhaps, this. Right now.

I was approving memberships for 20sb when I realized that if I were to sign up right now, my application would likely be placed on hold for inactivity.

A couple weeks ago my little brother graduated from college and my sister graduated from high school. That same weekend, the freshmen that I knew from student activities as a senior also graduated. I got to see the two that I was closest with while I was in DC. One joked about how old it must make me feel. True. It was weird to walk around campus (which has changed considerably in the years since I graduated) and realize that the last of the familiar student faces were now leaving.

More than anything, though, I was struck by how little we really know each other now. For all the heart-to-heart chats and struggle sessions, we fell out of touch. Three years is a long time in your 20s. So much has happened and it was jarring to sit across from this old friend and feel called back to that former self. It was exciting to hear about all of his plans, but sad too, to recognize that I don’t really know him now.

Losing touch happens so easily and you don’t really notice until after it happens.

You could say that this is me noticing.