Old Friends

Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy

I often joke that I don't have time for new friends. Seems nearly impossible to keep up with and to be a good friend to the ones I already have. Who has the extra time & space for new people? Aristotle said: "A friend to all is a friend to none". Now, before you get on my case for trying to justify my hermit-y ways, let me 'splain some things.

I'm an incredibly lucky, well-loved girl. The people that I've tripped across, been thrown together with, sought out, or just plain haven't been able to shake yet are -- to put it simply -- The Most Loving and Wonderful, Patient and Kind, Direct and Bold, Brave and Wise group of people you ever did see. What I did in some distant past life to deserve this team is beyond comprehension, and I'm daily grateful for this chosen family.

These gypsy feet of mine bring a double-edged sword to having such a rock star group. On the one hand - I've built this gorgeous family from a wiiiiiide range of people & places. On the other - we're scattered world wide and, as I've mentioned, are not yet all living on that private island together, basking in each others' fabulousness. Boo.

Which brings me to Old Friends. Recently had the distinct pleasure of spending an evening with a friend from childhood that I'd not seen in many years. Not only have we not seen each other in ages, but we've both been lazy and in contact only a handful of times since leaving high school (ahem, oh soooooo long ago).

Wendy Bigler and I were inseparable then. We finagled it so our lockers were next to each other, joined the same clubs and teams, and did our best to not crush on the same guys. Those were the surface similarities. On a very base level, we just got it. We felt loved and safe in each others' homes, with each others' families. We laughed about and were hurt by the same things. We couldn't imagine a life without each other.

Until life got in the way.

The other night though, sitting on her couch and across the dinner table, it was as if we were still there, still in the Rabbit, still packing for away games, still laughing ourselves silly on 44oz Big Gulps of Mountain Dew. Only now our gossip is more grown up, our hurts all the more painful, and our lives so much more complicated by all this damn adult stuff we all have going on. Still, to pick up the conversation exactly where we left it is impressive... just as it should be with an old friend.

I'm proud of Wendy. Proud to see her with her husband and her boys (ah-dorable!), proud of what she's accomplished and all that she's setting out to do next, and proud to say that I knew her when. Most of all though, I'm proud that, at 15, we made such good choices in our closest friends and allies. The kinds of choices that prove true and solid and strong, even all these years on.

So, I'll remain stubborn (lazy?) on the new friend front. I have some catching up to do with the friends that I have been neglecting. Watch out - you may be next.