You know how sometimes, if you’re really lucky, you’ll end up decades and centuries later with friends?
I mean, real friends.
Friends like that maybe you ignore or don’t see or don’t seek out for months and months and take for granted and tell yourself you really gotta call and get together with, but you don’t, and then all the sudden, for one reason or another, it suddenly comes together and schedules mesh and you have dinner with them and BOOM! you’re right back to it with them. The time apart drizzles away and it’s like you saw them Tuesday.
That happened to Miss Carol and me the other day.
Friends we hadn’t seen in awhile invited us over, again, for dinner. And this time, it all worked out and all came together, and what’s cool is that with friends like these there aren’t any uncomfortable silences, no strained conversation waiting for the alcohol, the social lubricant, to kick in.
You just take up where you left off, ‘ya know?
Surprisingly, seemingly, one of the places we’d left off was Christmas. Like two years ago. But our friends, our buds, had carried the gift they’d bought us through the years, carrying it in the trunks of their cars, moving it around and wrestling it from the jaws of their dogs so that, one day, they could give it to us.
Miss Carol and me, we’re really lucky.
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