My lifetime became two, as one ended in a thunderclap and another began. For decades there was so little connection between them, I honestly felt as if the first one was a dream, a thing half-remembered... less like a journey, and more of a story I told now and then... when I could remember it, anyway.
I have been privileged these past few years to re-encounter a good number of people who were part of my first life, and in this, to restore a lot of wonderful memories... and to discover that sometimes the people who seemed to be for a season turn out to be for a lifetime.
Pretty sure I don't deserve my friends. I am a big awkward dope, selfish too much of the time, with an undisciplined mind that goes down rabbit holes over and over, but never remembers a birthday or an anniversary. I've had many season friends, but never thought of myself as lifetime material.
And yet, as each year passes I seem to turn around and discover I have more friends. And they seem durable, in it for the long haul. Forgiving, too. I don't seem to be able to drive them off.
As I grow older, those familiar thunderclouds are gathering again. My mind moves more slowly and covers less ground. Some people remain sharp into elder years, but not me.
But as the rest of the world slowly begins to blur, the focus sharpens on my friends.