I grew up in the countryside, near a small town. There, people knew people for life. Families are friends, not just through one life, but for generations. The old folk would have you pegged in seconds...."I knew your Granpa Rodge and sure wasn't he a great man", or "are you related to the Dwyer's from the Post Office?"....you were always known, and you always knew who, you were talking to.
People moved on through life, from place to place, never too far, but you'd always meet them, maybe it's at a local festival, for a pint on a Saturday, or at a funeral or maybe a family wedding or something, they were never really gone. Unless, of course, they died, or emigrated. The tradition for dying or emigration is the same, a wake, a celebration of a person's life, and a chance to sum up what they meant to you. It was final, it was closure.
Here, in the center of the world though, people get close, real quick, too quick, and they part, quicker. Years of friendship can end in a day. People move on, with promises to keep in touch, but then they go, no wake, no closure. They will spend they rest of their lives, no more than a few miles away, moved on, but gone, and those years of friendship are but a line in a resume and a flashing memory of a life flying by.
