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My friends might tell you I'm hard to get rid of. On a good day, they'd perhaps admit that it's my Capricorn trait of loyalty (or stubbornness--you choose). Whatever the case, I'm blessed to be still in touch with many dear old (<-- snicker) friends: a few from toddler and kindergarten days, several from high school days, a couple from college, some from a year-an-a-half spent living in Germany, a couple from the roaring twenties years and one from a winter camping trip to the Adirondacks (spending several nights in sub-sub-zero degrees Farenheit in a tent tends to bond people … frozen, inverted-upon-head-like-a chef's-hat boxer shorts and all). I fully intend for more recently acquainted writing and online friends to be stuck with me many years down the road as well. There's a great deal of diversity in the lot of 'em. Diversity in mutual history, diversity in personalities, diversity in shared memories. Through the years, despite distance in miles and lifestyles, we've stayed in touch, be it "when we get around to it" correspondence or occasional real live visits. What always amazes me is how the years melt away when we get together or speak on the phone. We're seventeen again. Or seven, depending on the topic we choose to discuss... Sometimes we're just ... us, as we are now. We've always made our own fun, and we still do during the too-rare get-together. But these days our fun is a tad more sedate, consisting of such wayward activities as throwing peanut shells on the restaurant floor or swordplay with chopsticks.
No matter the story, no matter the history, and even recalling the occasional "oh you go to hell" moments, the memories all come with a sort of golden glow. When I'm in need of a chuckle or a sniffle, or, come to think of it, an amusing adventure to immortalize in writing, all I have to do is call on memories created with the treasures of my soul: my friends. |