Old friends. I was struck by this idea this morning as I texted an old friend from college, wishing him a happy birthday. He’s in Texas, and I am in New York, but to be honest, we could be in the same town and that would not be a guarantee that we would be able to see each other.
Old friends. I can say that now without irony. I have known him for 20 years. Our friendship is just about to be old enough to drink. I have a hand full of friends that I have known for over 35 years. Those friendships should start thinking about setting up retirement accounts.
I am missing all of my friends, as we all are. I think things getting Spring-like warm in the City isn’t helping, as this would be the time that I would make an excuse to go take a walk around the park with a friend. To grab a seat on a bench with an old friend, and talk. Nothing complicated, just simple and basic; a conversation.
Old friends who inhabit those fading pictures that were developed off of film are sprinkled on the walls of my home. The orange-yellowing of those images reflect the sanding of the sharp corners of my memories. It was all fun and silly, though those emotions then were stronger, and deeper, right? Only an old friend of mine could conform my nostalgia, or honesty.
Happy birthday, old friend, and all of my old friends.