OLD FRIENDS
I do not say new friends are not considerate and true,
Or that their smiles ain’t genuine, but still I’m tellin’ you
That when a feller’s heart is crushed and achin’ with the pain,
And teardrops come a-splashin’ down his cheeks like summer rain,
Becoz his grief an’ loneliness are more than he can bear,
Somehow it’s only old friends, then, that really seem to care.
The friends who’ve stuck through thick an’ thin, who’ve known you, good an’ bad,
Your faults an’ virtues, an’ have seen the struggles you have had,
When they come to you gentle-like an’ take your hand an’ say:
“Cheer up! we’re with you still,” it counts, for that’s the old friends’ way.
The new friends may be fond of you for what you are today;
They’ve only known you rich, perhaps, an’ only seen you gay;
You can’t tell what’s attracted them; your station may appeal;
Perhaps they smile on you because you’re doin’ something real;
But old friends who have seen you fail, an’ also seen you win,
Who’ve loved you either up or down, stuck to you, thick or thin,
Who knew you as a budding youth, an’ watched you start to climb,
Through weal an’ woe, still friends of yours an’ constant all the time,
When trouble comes an’ things go wrong, I don’t care what you say,
They are the friends you’ll turn to, for you want the old friends’ way.
The new friends may be richer, an’ more stylish, too, but when
Your heart is achin’ an’ you think your sun won’t shine again,
It’s not the riches of new friends you want, it’s not their style,
It’s not the airs of grandeur then, it’s just the old friend’s smile,
The old hand that has helped before, stretched out once more to you,
The old words ringin’ in your ears, so sweet an’, Oh, so true!
The tenderness of folks who know just what your sorrow means,
These are the things on which, somehow, your spirit always leans.
When grief is poundin’ at your breast — the new friends disappear
An’ to the old ones tried an’ true, you turn for aid an’ cheer. Edgard Albert Guest
Last night was a magical night overflowing with love and friendship. Four very old friends and the new girl on the block (me) shared a dinner of home-crafted chicken noodle soup, piping hot rolls, and lemon cheesecake. After a long day of traveling, and a longer day of waiting, very old friends were reunited. It was a beautiful thing to behold.
There are some people that are heart friends. When you find one, you know. Just as the poem point states, it has nothing to do with riches or airs of grandeur. It’s unspoken love and respect that’s as clear as the color of one’s shirt.
Miracles in life are so beautiful. The healing nature of a hug. The warmth of a blue-eyed smile across the table. Holding hands during a prayer before eating. Laughter and shared stories. All of these things are found in a life, rich and full.
Five months ago, I met the most Mysterious Marine. A quiet man with twinkly eyes and the most beautiful smile. As the days have gone by, he has shared his family, friends, Wookie and the Wook-lets. Secrets of his home town have helped me to grow even deeper roots here at Winterpast. Sharing his family has been one of the biggest gifts he could have ever given me. My life hasn’t been the same since our first “Hello”.
Now, my circle of friends has grown by two. Friends are family you choose. For the Mysterious Marine and his family, these two fit in that category, chosen decades ago. They are the kind of friends that drop everything, pack up, and move across state lines over Donner Pass to help someone they love. They are real. They are loyal. And, they are a hoot and a half! Last night was a blessing. A day I won’t soon forget, while unforgettable days are stringing together, more precious than a delicate strand of pearls.
To my oldest friends….CC, Miss Fire Cracker, Ninja Neighbor, the Humble Ones, Miss Sunflower, TJ, The Goddess of the Central Coast, and DaGirl… While many miles are between us, we remain heart sisters. To each of you, I send my love. I wish you could’ve joined us last night for soup. We’ll have our turn very soon.
Today is an pivotal one. Traveling west, there is a certain car waiting on a showroom floor with my name on it. Barbie’s Jeep is emptied, washed, waxed, and vacuumed. She and I have been through a lot. She helped me move from Virginia City to Winterpast. She knows how many miles held hiccup-py tears. She will always be a fond memory in my heart, but life moves on. My next car may be firey red or intensely yellow. It’ll have heated seats and a hot engine. The odometer will show a bright 0, and off I’ll start into a new chapter on the road. Stay tuned for the outcome of this, my biggest shopping adventure in quite awhile.
Whatever you do today, think of your old friends. The ones who finish your thoughts when you pause to remember a certain word. The ones who know where you want your dishes unpacked and placed in an empty kitchen without needing to ask. The ones you would trust to buy a new clock for your home. The one who make the best chicken noodle soup spiced with love and tenderness, just because. Call them. Keep them close and hug them often. They are the true gifts in this life.
More tomorrow.