This weekend was just about as perfect at you can get. Our oldest and dearest friend, Matt, came for a visit. I met both him and David on our high school trip to Spain when we were 16. He and David have been friends since they were like 11 years old. Matt is the person credited with the beginnings of the romance between myself and David, as he was the guy who told David he should go to prom with me. We have stayed friends through all kinds of ups and downs and still when he pulls up I can't help but have a smile plastered on my face the entire span of his visit.
This weekend got me thinking about the rarity of old friends in today's world. People don't live their lives in their hometowns like they used to. Most often they have no choice but to move to other states or even countries. Even with the long distances that have been between us at times we have continued to share parts of our lives. My girls call him Uncle Matt and Olivia cried buckets of tears when she had to leave for an overnight trip to Grammy's instead of hanging out with us. There is just such a wonderful thing about a person who has watched us be kids together, grow up together, marry, form a life, raise children, begin professions. I still send a Christmas card every year to his parents.
And I love watching him and David together. Two men who once sat in the same classes in middle school, one now a professor, one now a doctor, get these boyish grins on their faces again as they talk about the past. In some ways neither one has changed a bit. In one weekend I can be transported back in time: sitting in David's car, woofers blowing out the beat of Big Audio Dynamite, Peal Jam, or Offspring. Sonic Route 44 limeades in our hands, heading off for something or nothing. Not really thinking about the future because the present was just right.
