Closed Door, Opened Window

"Growing up is never easy. You hold onto the things that were. You wonder what's to come. But that night, I think we knew it was time to let go of what had been and look ahead to what would be. Other days. New days. Days to come. The thing is, we didn't have to hate each other for getting older. We just had to forgive ourselves for growing up." -- The Wonder Years

I received an e-mail from an old friend yesterday.

It was the last thing that I expected to see when I opened my inbox. Granted, I had written him a few weeks ago, but my intention was to tie up loose ends, make peace with some things that had happened between us, and move on. I didn't write it to get a reaction or an apology or anything in return. It was just something I felt I needed to do for my own peace of mind.

And two weeks had gone by and I hadn't heard anything, so I just assumed that finally, the last chapter had been written. And I was okay with that.

I really never expected him to respond to my letter, just because the person I knew in high school probably wouldn't have. In fact, I expected him be a) angry and defensive or b) indifferent and dismissive.

But he wasn't. He read what I wrote and he thought about it. And he apologized for taking two weeks to get back to me.

And really, whatever his response to what I wrote is, it's kind of secondary.

The fact that he did respond, and the fact that he did so respectfully and maturely makes me happy. Not because I got a reaction, but because I think it means that after almost six years, we are both somewhere on the same page about things. It doesn't matter what he thinks about what I wrote (well, it matters in that he has every right to his own feelings on the subject, but not in the sense that he's going to make me doubt my own); I think what matters is that after all this time, we're both adult enough to recognize the issue and move on from it.

And that's all I wanted.

So when we have the opportunity to discuss my letter, I'm going to be largely quiet. I said what I wanted to say and I'm comfortable with how I expressed myself. That being said, I did send him a pretty heavy letter out of the blue and he has every right to his own feelings on the subject. So, I will listen to them. And I won't argue with him and I won't get defensive. I'm not going to try and convince him that he's wrong and I'm right because if I've learned one thing, it's that people are entitled to their feelings.

You can never be wrong about what you feel.

If you're angry, whether or not I agree with you, you have the right to be angry.

If you're hurt or upset or confused, that's an absolute. And there's not a thing wrong about feeling what you feel.

And that's a mature realization. And it makes me genuinely happy that he seems to have realized that too. Just because it means that we've changed a lot from the 15-year-old friends we once were.

All the stuff that happened when we were sixteen, seventeen years old -- we were kids. We thought we were smart and mature and wise, but we were kids. God, we're only 23; in some ways, we still are. At the time there was hurt and pain and miscommunication, but in the grand scheme of things, all that drama is just a point on my life graph. And what seems like the end of the world when you're 17 becomes increasingly less all-consuming as you experience more of life: more hardships, more joys. More ups, more downs.

It's a funny thing about life: we all grow up. And that's what that e-mail meant yesterday. And I think it's a good sign. Because even if an unexpected e-mail is the end of the story, it's a happy ending.