We’ve had a spate of light showers for several days now, nothing significant, just enough to make it feel like fall. Leaves have begun to turn finally. Very few have fallen. The air is yellow with smoke from field burning. On a rise as we were coming into town last night, we could see a blanket of smoke spread across town. The buildings were vague, the edges not quite distinct. It was like a memory.

We were returning from a day trip to see friends from college. We hadn’t seen them in over fifty years, though we had exchanged long Christmas letters and other occasional communications. The trip up was a bit bumpy. I couldn’t manage the GPS and got us lost. That is how I am now, not quite tech capable. We took a step back in time when we arrived. We were the friends of fifty years ago, but with more stories to tell. It was natural. It fit. Four young college students who could only afford to splurge for an ice-cream cone at pay day had become retired professionals. We had raised children, who had children, experienced the death of our parents, overcome sickness, and become the generation we had ridiculed. All those things and a lifetime more between today and the day we last saw them. We looked different. I weighed more and used a walker. Jill was in remission from leukemia Our skins bore the wrinkles of a long life. I had finally been able to grow a decent beard.

We talked about the drive and gradually drifted into our current life which led to stories from the past 5 decades. We were changed. Still, I think we sensed that our hearts were the same. The kindness, generosity, and respect for others we once advocated was still there, polished by living. We laughed a lot, made sandwiches, and became friends all over again. By the time we finished the apple cobbler it was time to go. We don’t drive well in the dark anymore, so we needed to make an early start home.

We took the old highway home, winding through small towns, past vineyards and dairy herds on a road we had traveled often before we moved to the valley. We began to recall incidents on trips: my getting lost  the night I drove to the coast to meet my in-laws to be, the place where we found a box turtle, the house on the curve that for years had an old German shepherd chained in the front yard, and the trip we noticed she was gone.

It’s the nature of memories after all. They don’t have a filter. The good and the bad float out of the past with the same ease.

We were a bit subdued. The pleasure of seeing our friends again was balanced by the underlying knowledge that, in fact, we might not see them again. We are in our seventies after all and don’t travel as much as we once did. Doing things for the last time is an undercurrent of our lives.

It was nearly dark by the time we got home. We drove down into the smokey cloud clinging to the valley floor. Car lights cast a dark yellow glow, filtered by the smoke. People were wearing masks.

It was so enjoyable to see Glen and Jill again, to know a bridge was still there, to each other and tother past.

Lyd sent them a thank you note.

It was a good day.

Blessings

Posts The Road