It is a person who for many reasons you don't see regularly but when you get together, it is like you saw them the day before. One only needs to fill in the details.
In our village we have many toe tipping friends from several countries, people with second homes who come when they can.
Yesterday we said goodbye to a couple of our toe tippers. Over the decades we've shared so much: dinners, cafe sits, events. We've shared the joys and worries about our kids. We watched as we wound up jobs and moved into retirement activities. There have been emergency rooms and falls. Small memories like his getting rid of my Christmas tree one year, considerations that are like the MasterCard advert says -- priceless.
In retirement, she has become a painter. Four of her paintings hang on our walls, not because she's our friend but because we love her work. There is a special clock she made for me. Its face is that of the heroine of my mystery novel and the first thing I see when I wake each morning...or the second, if the dog hasn't decided to kiss me awake.
They shared their cathedral English town which gave me the basis for one of my novels.
This is our second home too, but we can spend more time here than they do and want to make sure if we can, we are here when they are.
There is something pleasurable about going for our daily veggies to pass him carrying a baguette like a native. A brief or longer exchange is always good.
Sadly we've lost some of our mutual friends to disease, dementia and death. It was reminder as I cafe sat with them last night, our dogs ignoring each other, how special the here and now is.
Each time is like a colorful brush stroke, a laugh of red, I tear of blue, a hope of green. Together they make a painting that when we think about it we smile, glad for the gift of friendship that instead of hanging on our wall, stays in our heads and hearts.
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