Boston friends
A couple of the friends I'm seeing this visit I've known since 1983; over two-thirds of my life. Some of the others I've known since I was eighteen or so. Some of the others I've known since they were eighteen or so, when I met them while visiting Swarthmore during my Wanderjahr. It's lovely to know that, although I don't see or talk with any of these folks nearly often enough, we always seem to be able to pick up where we left off.
As I drive back and forth this visit, I've been listening to various songs about friends and friendship. Someday maybe I'll post my playlist, but for now, here's the final verse of David Dodson's lovely song “Farthest Field” (YouTube); I suspect that, like most lyrics, they lose a lot without the music, but they're somewhere in the right vicinity, especially after yesterday's roundsing:
Oh my dear friends
I truly love
To hear your voices lifted up in radiant song.
Though through the years
We all have made
Our separate choices, we've ended here where we belong.
I can't say that Boston is where I belong. But seeing friends is good.
(And of course I have great friends elsewhere as well; it's just that the Boston area has a higher concentration of longtime friends than elsewhere.)
(Wrote some of this during my last Boston visit, in October 2012, but didn't post it.)
