Words, Places, People, and Faces

Looking Through the Years

PinF is back. Journeying to the UK to see an old buddy and check in on him and his life, and also to be reunited with what called be affectionately referred to an old flame, though its fire once hot was quite brief. Arriving on the third anniversary of my father's passing, I thought this a fitting tribute to one who so vicariously lived through each of his son's stories, adventures, and travels.

The weather coming into Gatwick was everything one imagines England to be. Slowly coasting over the now greening hillsides of England dotted with sheep, the clouds hung low as they attempted to block the struggling March sunshine. Incredibly, the day broke to bright sunshine once on the ground and as I walked from the plane to the terminal I got my first familiar taste of spring air in England. Clearing customs and securing some cash I shuffled into the main terminal to await my ride--none other than my brief summer love of 1987. Like a scene from a movie, I stood among the hustling travelers of many languages and customs as I waited for the visual confirmation that each of us would have once we found each other.

Had twenty years really passed? Would either of us seem "old" or different to the other? Already an uneasy feeling was building in my stomach after standing for what seemed like an eternity, yet was probably more like 25 minutes. Had she changed her mind? Was one of the kids sick? Traffic? After 40 minutes I began considering the train, reasoning it was only 45 minutes by train, and maybe things just happened. And with that thought there she was, cutting through a sea of rushing travelers heading towards me. Uneasiness filled the air, I could sense her nervousness. She looked the same girl I had last seen, of course time had left its indelible marks on each of us, and I could see the creases of her smile and she most probably saw the grey of my hair.

Funny how time, at least when it refers to our own youth, kind of stands still in our mind's eye, choosing instead to see that which we recall and loved. For in her I saw the same indomitable personality, confidence and glowing smile. She really didn't look that much different. So off we went onto the motorway, small talk filling the car until we arrived at the small rural town of Lewes on the outskirts of Brighton. We parked, and walked through a typical light mist down ancient streets filled with antique shops, pubs, and other curious little businesses until we reach Bill's produce and restaurant. Nervousness gave way to familiarities, as we settled in to some lattes and ordered breakfast. She talking about her children and I mine. Of course each had to look the other eye to eye as we now sat at this tiny table with hearty conversations filling the room of equally hearty breakfast aromas. And as we did, the years ticked off until it was just the she and I of twenty years ago--comfortable, happy, and laughing.

With each passing moment, the uneasiness of the reunion was shed, and before long we were each as comfortable as if we had never lost touch. We talked of lost parents, child rearing, the demands of marriage, hopes, and the disappointments and triumphs life. We remarked where had the years gone? What youthful indiscretions we each committed that caused us to lose each other's friendship and presence? And though we each lamented the loss of 20 years, we were equally able to draw inspiration that here we were so many years, tears, and laughs later enjoying the moment of each other's company. Reunions are like that, at least if you're lucky; you get to experience the discovery of what was once so lost, and now so literally found.

The better part of my week involved time alone. Walking the seafront, exercising, reading, browsing the curious shops of Brighton. Still, it was a priority of mine to reacquaint myself with such a dear and lost friend. I met her husband, and although it might've been, or even could've been uncomfortable--it wasn't. I met her little boys and had some yucks with them. We shared long walks after her children were in school, we had a few great meals, one of which was cooked by her husband. I was also granted the good fortune to attend her birthday celebration as well, capping off what turned into a nostagically poignant week, one I was glad to have had. We laughed well, reminisced much, and remembered old haunts and stories from so many years ago, capping off a wonderful week.

Our friends unlike our family are often in our lives through a combination of choice, fate, and common experiences. Having them in our lives or losing them, often comes down to several common factors of either life changes, geography, or often misdeeds. Our drift was a result of all of them. Still in reuniting, you realize just how connected we are in life, either through common experiences, or oft remembered events shared many years ago, though no less poignant. I told her that she had always been in my thoughts, either through hearing her favorite album that she played to the point of torture--or through certain memories of everyday mundane life, that wouldn't regsiter with anyone but her. She countered many of the same sentiments. Even the loss of our parents bore similar timelines and circumstances making us each aware of the commonality of experience in life. Though never less painful for it, it makes the path a bit easier to bear when you're sharing it with someone who's been there.

My week meandered on heading towards its eventual and some would say predictable conclusion. Sophia beckoned from afar as I was missing her. My friend decided she wanted to drive me to the airport for my flight home too. Of course I knew that this wouldn't be an easy goodbye, as there never really are when you're in an airport. Still she was adamant, and I was open to spending a bit more time, because hell, you never know it could be another twenty years right? The uneasy feeling of the end was ignored as we shared an airport breakfast. Still the clocked ticked on, and before long it was time. After a hearty hug and some brief words off she went as she came.....through the crowds of the many faces of foreigners in Gatwick airport, and of all days, Mother's Day in England. This gave me some solace to know that when she would arrive home, it would be her day, something that might lift her spirits after such a farewell.

The trip now a memory, I'm able to reflect in a positive way just how necessary it is for us all to reconnect whether it be twenty years or twenty days. The most important thing is the connection; something that never really leaves us, rather it lies dormant until we turn the lights back onto a specific time, person, and place in our lives.

A Walk Along the Seafront in Brighton

Me and my new best mate Arthur.

My other new mate George

Arthur with the killer curls.

Walking the Laines in Brighton with the boys.