The three of us in 2009

When I finally managed to call my friend back I didn’t love the news I got: her parents were selling their house and moving to Colorado, and well, the next 2 weeks would be her “last” time in New York (she transplanted to LA five years ago). I hung up the phone and selfishly thought of all the great memories I had in that house. The cheese and mustard sandwiches her mother would always have made for us, the Dazed and Confused marathons we’d have in the living room, playing soccer in the backyard while the sprinklers were on. This is where our Fourth of July Twilight Zone festivals saw it’s full glory (we’d only leave the house to grab some Baskin Robbins). The truth is, the best times of my life were with those friends and most of them in that house.

So when my junior high school buddy came back into town there was no question we were getting together the old gang. All three of us. In school there would be guest appearances by a fourth or fifth tag-a-long, but the core remained the same. We decided to make a trip to Bennigan’s where we used to spend most of our Friday nights; most of the time was spent arranging rides from one of our parents. Years later, with our own cars and our own money to spend we take the drive down Deer Park Avenue, pull into the parking lot and are faced with Wild West’s Buffalo Wing’s (or something equally crushing). Like the carefree days of our youth, our epicenter was gone. Replaced by an empty  bar and grille.

We had two choices, go into the grille or head for something more our age, like sushi. Two bottles of saki later, we’re running down memory lane and

The three of us in 1995

convincing one another how necessary it is to band together and attend our high school reunion (I already threw out the invitation, so my attendance is doubtful). I very rarely enjoy talking about the past, and worry about relationships that can’t move forward from it, but as we talked about who’s where, who we still talk to, who we’ve seen, I realized that while we were so busy growing apart across a city and a nation, the three of us haven’t changed much. We still have our independent thoughts, unique from what the rest of the “class” is doing, and we’re still stuck on the idea that no one reads as much as we do, if at all. We still had the ability to bounce back and pick up where we left off; like a rubber band that hasn’t lost an ounce of it’s elasticity. So while there was an awful lot of reminiscing, it was a comfort discovering that I still love these girls, as they are now, for WHO they are now. I was only sad to know we couldn’t do it again next week.

When we said our goodbyes the thought of it’s finality (or at least infrequency) was still abstract, and is as I write this. The house may be sold, and maybe the two of us that are still in NY won’t catch up as often as we like, and there’s a chance it will be another year or two before we can make it to LA, but the memories of youth still hold tight and I’m very lucky that some of the most wonderful people in my life are only a train and plane ride away…