Too Late

I first met her in high school: tall, slender, pretty, blonde, a year younger than me. I saw her this evening, the first time I'd seen her in a couple of years, down at J.J.'s, while bar-hopping with a friend. She was staggering drunk, hugged me, told me how great it was to see me, how she'd missed me.

She's like that every time I see her. My friend confirms that she's like that every time he sees her too, and he spends a lot more time downtown than I do. At least, he says, she's gotten off the crack.

I look at her (she's practically leaning on me for support, not much choice), and I can see that there's something that's finally gotten burned out there. I remember she has a child, she told me about that a few years ago. I want to shake her and ask What happened to you, because I remember the girl you used to be. Before we leave (hastily), I kiss her on the forehead and ask her to take care of herself. That's the most I can do, the most help I can give. That's heartbreaking in its own right, the idea that there are some things I can't fix.

I'm not the same person I was in high school. OK, maybe I am, but it's more like I've grown into myself. The flaws get smoothed over a little, you learn what your strengths are. But I wonder what happened to her, to have her end up as she is now. What happens to anyone to make them eradicate themselves with too much alcohol, too many drugs?

It's late, I'm tired, and there's a hundred different things to write about. I haven't updated this blog much this month, even though there are new trips to write about, new pictures to post. We'll fix that later today, this July 4th, after I get some sleep.