But I'm talking about a constancy and depth of interaction that is conspicuously absent.

None of my wife's friends interest me beyond the typical couples interactions; I barely tolerate some of them. I tolerate most of my co-workers, although Laura and David are good people. Even the people I do Requiem with are just the people I do Requiem with, where social interaction is like winding up mechanical toys at each other and letting them go. Everyone is in their assigned place in my life, has their role, their assigned script with plenty of improv, and with the exception of my wife for obvious reasons never try to take a step closer, inconvenience me, or otherwise meaningfully interact with me in any serious way.

In short, I have perfected the art of being apart.

This honestly does not bother me. I comment on it because I think it's strange that it doesn't bother me. I suppose, from a practical standpoint, there is simply the currency of time. Given a near year old child, my exchange rate sucks. Outside of an hour or at best 90 minutes, life outside of work consists of dinner, washing dishes, playing with child, watching a few episodes of Buffy with the Mrs., and then an hour of free time usually spent sending e-mails to my players or sundry things.

There's simply no time for meaning past interacting with Garion. Really, past semi-frequently wanting to finally play Starcraft 2 or sit alone in the dark for long periods of time, I enjoy playing with him so Julia can get some free time in post-dinner. And I get dark time before bed.

I remember in the not too distant past, though, that I was surrounded by meaning and drama and passion--somewhat centered around here, of all places. I miss aspects of it, but I would miss aspects of my current life if spontaneously I was transported back to 2006 or so.

Still, when life spontaneously says "hey, old friends, random", you go, "...well cool, okay." And so it is.

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