Memories From The Appian Way
As I walked on the Appian Way, the famous lane to the Girls’ dormitory of my alma mater, the air felt heavier than I expected. The route where lovers once strolled romantically after evening studies and entertainment in our days at school hadn’t changed much, but something inside me had. With every step, memories surged—laughter echoing in hallways, whispered secrets under the bleachers, tears shed in quiet corners, people skipping dining time to portray wealth. I could almost hear the voices of friends who once felt like family. We were inseparable, or so we thought. Back then, it felt like nothing could pull us apart. But life doesn’t ask for permission—it just moves.
I tried to remember the last time I had spoken to any of my closest friends from school. Not just the occasional “Happy birthday” on social media, but a real conversation. A heart-to-heart. The kind we used to have when the world felt small and we were each other’s everything. Most had faded into the blur of adulthood—jobs, marriages, relocations. Some drifted naturally, others disappeared without a trace. And suddenly, I realised I had lost touch with nearly all of them. Over 99%. That number hit me like a punch to the chest.
It made me question everything. Why had I tried so hard to fit in? Why had I bent myself into shapes that didn’t feel like me—disobeying my parents, ignoring my instincts, compromising my values—just to be accepted by people who, in the end, didn’t stay? I remembered moments where I laughed at jokes that hurt others, stayed silent when I should have spoken, wore masks just to be liked. And for what? A seat at a table that no longer exists?
The truth was hard to swallow. Those friendships, once so vivid, had faded like old photographs. Not because they weren’t real, but because they belonged to a version of me that no longer exists. I stood there, staring at the campus that had shaped my head, heart and hands, and felt a strange mix of grief and gratitude. Grief for the connections lost. Gratitude for the lessons they left behind.
A line I once heard echoed in my mind: “When the game is over, each player returns to their home.” It felt cold, but honest. We all played our parts, shared our seasons, and then life called us elsewhere. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe the point wasn’t to hold on forever, but to grow from what we had.
As I stood there, I let go of the guilt. I let go of the longing. I accepted that some people are chapters, not the whole story. And while I may never reconnect with most of them, I carry pieces of them with me—in the way I speak, the way I love, the way I remember.
In the end, it’s not about how many friends we keep or how long they stay. It’s about who we become because of them. And now, as I move forward, I’m choosing to build a life that’s true to me. One that doesn’t chase belonging, but creates it. One that honours the past, but doesn’t live in it.
Reflectintrospection
May these existential questions stir the soul and spark profound introspection.
1. What are our roots? Where did we come from, and how does our origin shape our identity, purpose, and values?
2. What’s our purpose? Why are we here, and what legacy do we want to leave behind? What drives us, and what gives our lives meaning?
3. What nourishes us? What do we need to thrive, grow, and function at our best? How can we cultivate resilience, well-being, and fulfillment?
4. What is our destination? What lies beyond our earthly experience? How do our beliefs, values, and actions shape our understanding of what comes next?
Serenity Prayer
Dear God, help us to know the essence of our existence. Give us the strength to ask hard questions, and wisdom to live with meaning. Keep us grounded in truth, with eternity in focus. Amen.
