January 2, 2013: Very Old Friends

It’s amazing!  I almost started this post with a reference to LOTR or Sherlock or something else, but it seemed unnecessary.  I met, this afternoon, with two old and dear friends (who have been previously mentioned) for lunch. It was quite an experience.  It involved a lot of giggling, very little reliving of memories (surprisingly), and smiles with warm feelings.  Despite that, or perhaps not despite or in spite, but in addition to that I realized that, as we sat and giggled and ate and caught up, that we all had had a profound effect on one another.  I mean, you expect that when you see these old friendships, but I don’t think you expect it when you’ve been apart as long as we have.  Yes, we’ve seen each other on an individual basis occasionally, and I’ve kept in touch with both of these friends, relatively steadily, as steadily as is possible, but it’s been a good six years since we all sat down at the same time together. 

The effects we’ve had on each other didn’t just come across in our discussions and the things that made us giggle like we were 13, but it came across in other aspects of us that I noticed.  There was a sense of familiarity we all had, coming together after so long a time apart it was surprising, but it was still there.  We needed to catch up a bit, but once we did that, we were back on level footing, like we had never been apart.  This isn’t really getting to the point of what I’m trying to say, though.  I notice things, sometimes, when I step back and look at my family and I see where different parts of us come from.  I noticed bits of me in my brother and sister today, but I won’t go into just where, not here.  I’ll poke into myself, instead.

I notice my brother in myself when I’m walking down the hallway at school and my friends and I start singing something and I randomly start beat-boxing to it (badly).  I notice my sister when my friends at school and I have a sleep over and I giggle like I’m 12 with them.  I notice my brother when I’m practicing for a performance and I can hear his voice in my head telling me to focus and calm down.  I can notice my sister when I’m in my apartment trying to work on something and I suddenly hear her say something ridiculous in my head and I start giggling.  I notice them both in my love of BBC programming.  (Doctor Who, Sherlock, and others…though I see my mom in my love of those too.  She, technically, introduced me to both.)  I see them both in my quirky sense of humor, but also in my guardedness with people I don’t know.

They may not be physically with me everyday.  I may not think of them all the time.  I may have (finally) gotten to the point where I don’t miss them all the time, but I know they’re there.  They’re with me in little things I do, little gestures I make, everyday.  When I catch them there, I can’t help but smile, giggle, and…often tell the story behind those symptoms.  Very old friends or family (that’s really the better word).  They are something no one can touch, a part of me that will always be there and make me smile.  I know I wrote to both of them earlier, but this is different, this is special.  This is how I know they will never leave me, they’ll always be a part of me.  I love them for it and I look forward to many more smiles with them, in person, but also when I notice them in myself.


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