Golden afternoon

For me, after the death of my parents, I mourned the loss of the two people who knew me well. There is something to be said for stories about your youth and having a back-up for the memories.

Now, there are only a handful of people who knew me when, and due to life and other circumstances, we aren't as in touch as I'd like. It feels like that part of myself is lost. It's an odd feeling.

My first girlfriends were two sisters, Kim and Steph, who moved next door to us when I lived in Pennsylvania. I was four. They were two and five. Our parents were friends, and because of that, we stayed in touch even after our family moved away. We wrote letters. We got together for summer vacations and spent years alternating Christmas visits. Kim and I traveled together after college and eventually moved o Florida together. We've known each other for fifty years.

That's the longest friendship I've ever had. Fifty years. Whoa.

This last week I texted Steph for her new address to add to my Christmas card list. She responded and then casually mentioned she was going to be in Florida that weekend for her son's golf tournament. It was thirty minutes from my house. I immediately invited myself to watch her son play.

The funny thing about friendships is that when they are right, it doesn't matter how much time has passed. Nothing is strange. It's comfortable, endearing, and right. You pick up where you left off and proceed. Time is nothing but a blip on the radar. At least, that's how it is for me. That's how it was seeing Steph.

We're older. We've taken lumps, added spouses and kids, survived various roadblocks, and lived separate lives that didn't necessarily intersect. Yet, walking that course, talking and sharing stories, it was all so familiar--like a cozy blanket on a cold winter night. It was like a hug from my parents being with someone who knew me before I became the person I am now. It was a wonderful five hours.

I cried most of the way home. It just happened, leaking out to run down my cheeks as a cleansing of sorts. A rejuvenation. I wasn't surprised. I'm a keeper. I cherish the past and those who made marks in the woman I have become. I thought how grateful I was that our parents kept the friendship through their own struggles, the many ups and downs, and miles apart. I thanked social media and our world of texting that enables me to push into their lives and invite myself to share their activities.

It was a fabulous afternoon, and it brought to mind the Girl Scout song I've always believed to be so true: Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other, gold.