friends were to be had

From time to time, I become a little introspective and look back on the years that make the totality of my life. This posting is meant to be neither morose nor overly sentimental, but I do reserve the right to be a bit nostalgic.

I grew up in a small town. How small? Well, while not tiny, neither was it large. We’re talking of a standing population of around or less than 5000. The town was a typical rocky mountain small town. Almost 5000 feet elevation (I miss mountains). Two stop lights in the town. Popular pass times for the high school kids were sneaking out to one of the lakes, where it was inevitable that someone would have a brother/cousin/sister/aunt/friend, etc. that would somehow supply enough alcohol to inebriate the entire student body twice, or the ever present “cruising”. With the high teenage pregnancy rate, you might consider there was a third pass time, but I choose to consider it a by-product of the previous two.

As a kid, I don’t think there was much doubt that most would have considered me one of those obnoxious “good kids”. I never really participated in the partying and cruising to me was just a waste of time and gas (though I have to admit to having done it out of shear boredom on more than one occasion). I had several good friends throughout my childhood that I was very close too. “Tim” I met in second grade and we still stay in contact to this day. I have many fond memories of hanging out at his house, riding our bikes all over the town and just generally being kids.

When I was in my junior year in high school, I made a friend, however, that from that time forward has set the goal for what I feel a friendship should be. “Luci” was a year younger than myself, and had had a completely different upbringing. But two guys that enjoyed each others company and complimented each others personality more would have been hard to find. (As an aside, I do wish to state that all of these reflections are of course from my point of view, and while they might be shared, I don’t want to make any assumptions.)

Luci and I became inseparable throughout the rest of my junior and throughout my entire senior year. He had a standing invitation to stay at my house whenever the urge/need arose, and for reasons unmentioned, those times were not rare.

As I graduated and he moved to another state, you would anticipate that we would have grown apart, however this never happened. We would take turns calling each other and, more often, would write (back in the days before the ‘net) letters on a regular basis. Life takes strange paths. Luci and I lived in separate states for the next eight years. I moved to Texas and became a teacher. He lived in the land of the sun and worked at several (I felt) interesting and diverse careers. One thing I always admired him for was letting go of a well paying job to take a chance on a dream. The dream didn’t work out, but the pursuit is what counts. If one thing linked us, it would have to be the pursuit of passion we shared.

That passion was shared in the form of books, movies, poetry (yes, poetry. You got a problem with that?) and life in general. While we didn’t always agree, we did more often then not.

Well, amazingly enough, after all those years, we again ended up living in the same town. This time in south Texas. Credit where credit is due. This never would have happened if Luci hadn’t had moved his entire life to Texas in order to make it happen.

The friendship continued uninterupted for the next four years. We started a business together and continued to enjoy dreaming our crazy dreams.

Eventually, the inevitable happened. Luci moved away and we had a true separation of spirit this time. A parting of the ways. It was no ones fault or maybe it was both our faults. It doesn’t matter, and truthfully I don’t care.

This friendship was special, and maybe it taught me how to be a better man. I know that it is the ruler I’ve measured all other relationships by. However, this isn’t a post ending on a sad note.

You see, recently I sent a brief email to Luci. I don’t know if he’ll choose to write me back, if he’ll choose to ignore me or even if he’ll choose to curse me. But I know that in the end it will be okay.

Why? Because in the end I’ve made peace with the situation.

In closing, I would encourage you, if you choose to, to do a little introspection of your own, and if some past hurt is still spoiling your joy, excise it and find some peace.

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