Friends & Father Time

River Friends Next to the James

True friends. It’s hard for me to make them, I’m a closet introvert and feel very guilty about my inability to make friends. Until the late 90s, friends came and went…slowly…one-at-a-time. In the late 90s/early 00s I stumbled into a group of soulmates but even this group drifted into the fog of time and distance. We individually get together once in a great while and a small subset of us meet weekly on Zoom. But for the most part, the friends of my early life are gone.

All told, until the 1990s group, I had only eight friends…and literally, one-at-a-time. I’m married to one of them, thank God. Two are dead, Four come out of the fog once in a great while and two are better off left in the fog.

As for the 90s group, when we do connect it’s like lightning, we’re transported back into time and then magically today melds with yesterday. Time and distance fade away, only incidental to the story. We all seem to reset and synchronize our emotions and personalities and celebrate each other and the group.

It’s dark…early in the morning as I’m thinking and writing this post, Venus is quickly fading into the rising sunshine. I imagine Father Time and My Mortality sitting at the table with me. Father Time is tapping his wrist, My Mortality shaking his head. Maybe I should call one of my friends. No. I don’t want to be a bother.