I think the internet may be the only reason I am still sane.

The thing about Katrina is that it took more than our house and possessions.  It took our village.  It took our entire social structure and yanked it out from under us, and, poor magician that it was, didn’t even leave the dishes intact.

A few years ago, months after Katrina, a friend of mine was poking fun at the entire concept of the network of blogs and IM conversations that make up my life.

“Whatever happened to just talking over the fence?”

I had to bite back the retort that Katrina took away my fence.

I also had to ignore the implication, in part correct, that I needed to grow where I was planted.  I needed to make my new surroundings my home.  As someone who spent her teens and young adult years in constant travel, I understand this better than most.

But as someone who does not make friends easily, I don’t view any relationship as disposable.  The internet became my backyard fence.  IM replaced our revolving front door, that easy familiarity of knowing where the iced tea and the glasses were kept.  The IM status signs let me know that my friends were there, even when we weren’t talking.  They were the comfortable silences of my day, not always feeling the need to talk, but knowing that whenever there was something that needed saying, there was someone there, ready to listen, to share a joke, a bit of gossip, a moment of frustration.

It just isn’t enough right now.  Right now I want the comfort of silent presences.  I am in a phase of my life where I am so damned whiney that I don’t like listening to myself talk or write or even to the dialogue in my head.  I want the long quiet silence of the friends who know that sometimes it is enough to just sit and be.  Not talking, but not alone.  Just there.  Together.  Companions.

I miss you all.