Old Friend
August 31, 2009
Hey all you One Love people, I hope that all is well with you.
I’ve just had some lunch with an old friend.
Is there anything better than an old friend? A person who has known you from when you were really young? There’s a certain shorthand for conversation with someone who has known you so long. You don’t need to explain, you don’t have to worry whether they understand where you’re coming from. They really know you.
The conversation flows, sailing a happy and erratic course between the gossipy shallows and deep waters. The smiles become laughs, the pauses are comfortable. There’s no need to tell anecdotes. You are not hoping to be warmed to or impress. The bond is there like a rope of years; a plaited history. A friendship so deep it becomes a fire that never goes out. An hour in their company and the embers of memory are raked, the synapses of commonality duly reconnected. Lunch with an old friend is to sip both sweetly and deeply from Life’s cup.
When the coffees were finished and the shadows were lengthening outside, we hugged, then parted. I felt a wave of profound sadness as I joined the throng of Oxford St. I looked back but my old friend was already lost in the crowd.
