A Dear Old Friend

Driving to work the other day, I was listening to my Spotify “daylist.” It is one of those little things I love about Spotify…they make it easy to access music I haven’t heard in a long time. Often, it takes me back to times in my life that aren’t necessarily forgotten, but rather just got left way up on the top shelf out of reach, collecting dust.

Out of sight, out of mind. That’s how a lot of memories work in my mind.

The “daylist” is one of those algorithm playlists that gets put together based on the music you tend to listen to most. The thing I like about this one in particular is that it changes throughout the day. So what you hear in the morning is different from what you get later in the day. It’s really pretty cool and, more often than not, acts like a personal time machine.

This particular morning, the songs were flowing from back in the 80’s, one in particular that took me back to my adolescence. The Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go” came on and before I knew it, I was thinking back to my teenage years when I first started listening to them.

And the friend that brought them into my life, Mike.

I had a lot of friends growing up. My mom described my 16th birthday as a younger version of the United Nations. Lucky in that way.

But somehow, all those buddies have disappeared. Part of that has to do with the fact that I left my hometown of Fort Lauderdale, Florida to head west to the mountains of Colorado for college. Once here, I never went back.

That same mom shed some tears when I told her I wasn’t coming home that first summer after my freshman year. But, I was spreading my wings and found a place of my own. I suppose that’s just the nature of growing up.

So, I pretty much lost touch with all of those friends I grew up with, except one.

Mike has been the stalwart of friendship in my life. When I think about my best friends, they tend to be the people I see regularly, work to spend time with consistently, and those that are directly present in my world. These are the people I confide in on the daily. And it is special and comforting knowing that I have them. My friendship with Mike is something different.

As I was listening to The Clash, my mind drifted back to a place of nostalgia, remembering childhood times spent with Mike. We met in second grade, became fast friends, and were pretty much side by side through high school.

One time in particular seemed to dominate my thoughts.

Behind the house I grew up in on 16th Terrace was a wooded area that backed up to a canal that ran through our neighborhood. Anyone familiar with south Florida knows the endless maze of canals that seemingly wind forever. That wooded area was undeveloped and acted as our playground. We referred to it simply as “The Woods.”

My memory was cast to a specific time when the two of us found a spot of intertwined tree branches so thick, we figured it could hold the two of us no problem. This particular spot spanned the entirety of the canal, acting as a canopy bridge. From our view, it would allow us to cross the canal without getting wet.

As we climbed and tested its worthiness, the most memorable sound was that of laughter. We dove, literally, head first into the web of entangled sticks, leaves and vines, crawling, climbing and battering ourselves. We got nicked and scraped, probably bruised, helping each other out when we were awkwardly stuck. And all the while, we laughed. We laughed out of the pure joy of feeling safe with each other.

And yes, we made it to the other side in one beat up piece, complete with two giant shit eating grins!

The Woods provided Mike and I the freedom to learn; it was the place we learned how to build tree forts, learned how to climb, learned how to explore with reckless abandon, and learned how to play hard!

We learned how to fall, and we learned what separated a significant injury from moderate pain that would only require the requisite few minutes to catch your breath.

We learned how to hang out and talk about those things that would be uncomfortable to talk about with any other person we knew.

We learned the comfort and trust in each other that is required to deepen a bond. A bond that has lasted a lifetime.

As I age, I understand more clearly the effort and work that goes into maintaining friendships. Change happens and people come and go. It’s just a fact of life.

But as I become more embedded in family, the time I put into friendships becomes more valuable.

Some, I choose to put more effort into than others. Another fact of life. And most of those relationships are with the people in close proximity to me.

Mike and I haven’t lived near each other for quite some time, but he remains my best friend in the world. It is a bond I don’t know how to describe. His presence is there, even when he isn’t. That’s the best I can do.

And that comfort…that comfort and trust still exists. It continues to exist over time, over distance, over change…over everything. I cherish this gift.

I hope everyone gets to experience it.