Lunch with a Friend

Dear Shawn,

There’s nothing like a visit to see my parents in Colorado. I love the mountains, the fresh air, the chance to relax and hike, the sight of elk, deer, humming birds, little critters scurrying about, and the occasional fox, coyote or bear. Oh, and seeing my folks is always fun.

On this trip, I got to see Robert. He was my best friend in third grade, when we lived on Creekbend St. These were the best days of my youth. It was on this street my brother was born. When my parents moved to the ranch on which they currently live, with a creek running through the property, I suggested they name it The Creekbend Ranch. Everyone loved the suggestion, so I’m writing you from there now.

I lost touch with Robert a few times in my lifetime. He moved from Creekbend St. to another city. We reconnected a few years later, when his family moved back. Oddly enough, his family moved to another part of Houston, close to where my family had already moved. Then I moved away (to Dallas, which coincidentally, is where Robert’s family had moved to when leaving Creekbend St.) and we lost touch once again.

After my illness in 2009, I started to long for the days of my youth and began to search for and reconnect with all sorts of old friends. I found Robert. My parents were now in Colorado and that’s where Robert was living...only two towns away. In fact, they both frequented the same Thursday night Grange pot luck dinner and jam sessions, so it’s possible they were in the same room at the same time and didn’t realize it. Seems nothing could keep Robert too far from his childhood best friend!

Robert moved a little further away a few years ago, so I don’t get to see him as often, when I’m visiting Creekbend Ranch. So when I found I was coming to town, landing around lunch time, I asked if he’d like to have lunch. He suggested a great Italian place, and he, Mom and I had a great time catching up.

We both started mulling over old memories, and he brought up the time he’d broken his arm- a time I remember quite well. Usually, Robert and I would come home from school and immediately head to his place to play, have a snack his mother would prepare, and watch the Banana Splits. Then, our favorite part of the afternoon, when we would play in the sand box out back, in which we’d dig trenches, fill them water, and sail our tin foil boats, made from the foil used in our lunch boxes from lunch.

One day, I had an after school event; I think it was choir practice. I ran home to play with Robert, knocking on his door. His sister answered and informed me that he had been rushed to the hospital because he broke his arm. I was about nine. I didn’t fully understand the meaning of one breaking their arm. I felt like the world was about to end. Poor Robert. I guess he’s done. I’ll have to find a new friend! In the Italian restaurant, the three of us laughed at my recounting my side of the story.

Robert and I are fifty, now. He’s got two kids, one about to start high school, and the other about to start college. It’s so nice that we have reconnected and are still friends- sharing what are the best times of our lives.