On Tuesday night I drove an hour to meet a dear friend (hello dear friend) in a small town neither of us knew, a quiet little half-way hamlet. There was not even a Tim's ladies and gentlemen, I kid you not. We had fried dinner and chocolate milk in the only game in town and walked to the gas station for a chocolate bar for dessert. By then, whatever had been happening at the Legion had wound up and the Weight Watchers meeting at the library was over so we just drove around talking and listening to music until I had found every dead end in town. We saw it all: the co-op, the water tower, the old folks home, the co-op again. I was glad I went. We got honked at (twice!) walking back from the gas station which was funny because we were talking about how we started to think of ourselves as old this year. Which is also funny because I feel simultaneously old and adolescent at the same time a lot lately: awkward, over eager, shy, scattered, pretentious. I am not sure how to present myself, how to dress, how to talk.
Hey friends far away if you are reading this, I miss you! I think of you often! I am thinking of you now! I would drive an hour to meet you too if I could, walk under the maples (or the lindens or the pines or the palms or whatever tree is growing in that half-way town) and talk, laugh, cry, be silent, talk some more. And then take the long trip home feeling full again, feeling myself again.