Reader, [the past is never the past].

I may have been binging on "Let It Go" covers today. Not sure how that happened--I haven't even seen Frozen (yet). But the song is all over the internet (see: Idina Menzel with Jimmy Fallon and the Roots; John Travolta can't pronounce Menzel's name at the Oscars; Alex Boye "africanizes" the song while cute kids in costumes roam the Midway ice castle thing; Piano Guys playing in aforementioned ice castle thing) and it's stuck in my head.

Or one line of it is: "The past is in the past."

I wonder if it does for some people--if it's possible to leave the past in the past. But then what would the point of the past be?

I've already mentioned how blogging brings the past back to me. But it's been escorted by people--friends--who were from that time or before. There should be an award for friends who stay friends longer than a year, longer than five years, longer than ten. It's a monumental achievement. And I'm constantly amazed by those people and grateful that they're not just my past.

Tonight saw two friends emerging from the past--three if I count a random Facebook encounter. Ais stopped by after her class on publishing to catch up, something we do every few weeks or few months, depending on our schedules. I tell her about law school and my family, she tells me about class and her family. Our lives took different paths so quickly that for a while it was difficult to talk without talking past one another. But in recent years, we've found our common ground again. We can always talk to each other about what's important and know that the other one is always listening.

And then K called. K and I aren't really phone people (she was the first person I ever texted--true story--I'm that old), so the phone call was an event in and of itself. And we found ourselves back in the same patterns and positions that our friendships occupied ten years ago. Our conversation was about writing, but also the past, which may have precipitated this whole post. Because we weren't just talking about the past, we were talking about who we are now. And neither of us would be here without that past. (She also made me want to go digging for photos of April and others, but that will have to keep for another night.)

I don't want to leave my past in the past. And maybe the song is saying not to dwell or something equally inspiring to a 7-year-old audience member, but just that idea makes me sad. I carry my past with me. It keeps me company sometimes. I recited it in Chicago when I was alone, I wrote it into my poems, I used it to create a personal mythology that's equally fact and fiction. And now that I'm confronting a life I never expected, it's keeping me grounded.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish my laundry.

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Favorite version of "Let It Go" after Menzel: Christina Bianco singing as all the divas. But really you should watch her do the same thing with "Total Eclipse of the Heart."