We checked out town and headed to the airport to pick up the last straggler, who came in from San Francisco for one night. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” she said, despite her 4 a.m. trip to the airport. That night we celebrated over margaritas and Southwestern fare, each of us gazing at the faces around the table as we wondered, who would have thought the bonds of childhood could last this long? Some of us have been friends since the age of five, some since age twelve and, yet, here we are approaching the age of thirty. Quite rapidly, I might add.
The weekend consisted of long talks by the pool, wonderful meals, and a hike that brought the entire group to tears. Not tears of sadness or anger, but an outpouring of emotion over the sheer wonderment that we can be this close-twelve years after graduation-with such physical distance between us. It’s heartbreaking that we can’t spend our days together in the same neighborhood, walking the same streets, reading the same newspaper at the same coffee shop. But that’s life. Grown-up life.
Most amazing is the group’s adaptability to one another. The months we spend apart are non-existent. No need to get reacquainted, we jump back in the saddle and it’s as comfortable as ever. Old friends-friends with an ever-present sense of support and sisterhood, friends that know each other innately-are hard to come by and yet we remain as tight today as we were, years ago, giggling in the back row of Mr. McKechnie’s 9th grade math class.
Life today, however, is no math class. Our world, spinning slightlyoff its axis is full of doubt, full of fear. Yet it reminds me-now, more than ever-how vital it is that we stay in close touch. We may have questions about our future, but we have true faith in our past, and though this reunion of friends has come to a close, we are already drawing up plans for the next one.