Like Going Home
Last weekend, I spent the day with a very old friend.
Once upon a time, we were inseparable. We shared school, church, birthdays, and families. It was her African-born parents who introduced me to a much bigger world than I otherwise would have known. My grandparents adopted her, since hers weren't around.
Life does things, though, and until last Sunday, we hadn't seen each other in twelve years.
We talked about meeting when she returned from her summer in Uganda. I knew she'd be in town at some point, because her parents had her dog. I was figuring on a casual coffee house trip, or maybe lunch somewhere. After all, we hadn't seen each other at all in twelve years. We've lost track of each other several times. We haven't been close since we turned ten.
Her dad decided to have a "welcome back" dinner and I was invited. I still knew how to get to the house. The drive there brought with it waves of nostalgia.
Walking into the house was like turning back time. Her parents were exactly as I remembered, complete with the thick East African and subtle French accents that sound like music.
Sometimes you hear about friends who meet or talk for the first time in years, and they just pick up effortlessly. This was one of those times. There was the occasional reminiscing, but the shared history was so long ago that the memories are fairly limited. What is interesting, though, is that after all these years, we might have more in common than we did twenty years ago.
Over the years, I've come to collect a rather extensive adopted family. What I didn't realize is that I've been collected as well. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that these amazing people called me family. And, apparently, there are still friendships that don't come with expiration dates.
Once upon a time, we were inseparable. We shared school, church, birthdays, and families. It was her African-born parents who introduced me to a much bigger world than I otherwise would have known. My grandparents adopted her, since hers weren't around.
Life does things, though, and until last Sunday, we hadn't seen each other in twelve years.
We talked about meeting when she returned from her summer in Uganda. I knew she'd be in town at some point, because her parents had her dog. I was figuring on a casual coffee house trip, or maybe lunch somewhere. After all, we hadn't seen each other at all in twelve years. We've lost track of each other several times. We haven't been close since we turned ten.
Her dad decided to have a "welcome back" dinner and I was invited. I still knew how to get to the house. The drive there brought with it waves of nostalgia.
Walking into the house was like turning back time. Her parents were exactly as I remembered, complete with the thick East African and subtle French accents that sound like music.
Sometimes you hear about friends who meet or talk for the first time in years, and they just pick up effortlessly. This was one of those times. There was the occasional reminiscing, but the shared history was so long ago that the memories are fairly limited. What is interesting, though, is that after all these years, we might have more in common than we did twenty years ago.
Over the years, I've come to collect a rather extensive adopted family. What I didn't realize is that I've been collected as well. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that these amazing people called me family. And, apparently, there are still friendships that don't come with expiration dates.
Labels: People I Know
posted by Sam Gamgee at
9:20 PM
3 Comments:
How lovely! That sort of friendship is very precious - I'm happy you had a chance to enjoy it :-)
Hooray for friendships that extend over the years! I really enjoyed reading about your "African family."
A treasure!
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