Been meeting with a lot of friends these past two weeks. People I’ve known for 20 years. Meeting isn’t exactly the right word. More like eating and drinking. [Last night I had three manhattans]
They remind me of who I was. They knew me when I was struggling. They knew me when I tried to act like someone I was not.
They remind me of my own mortality [especially if they are around my own age]. They remind me of the value of reaching out to people, and how I used to do more of it. They’re happy. They’re happy for me.
They’re an energetic bunch, my old friends. They don’t talk so much about the past. They talk about the future and the dreams they have. The new challenges they want in their life. The changes they are making. Many have grandchildren but they don’t want to show me pictures.
It’s a bit overwhelming sometime. They seem so active, so courageous. They inspire me. These old friends.