Make new friends, but keep the old…

 …one is silver and the other gold.  I remember that song from my Brownie days, forty-five years ago!

I re-connected with several people on Facebook that went to Hunter College High School and Stuyvesant  in the ‘70s with me, and I have to say that it has been beyond a pleasure to get to re-know them.   When we are together, it just feels so comfortable and nice.  There’s something special about hanging out with people who lived through those adolescent years with me  and went through similar experiences and life events.  There is a feeling that they know me in a way my newer friends never can- they were THERE when (fill in the blank).  

College friends also hold a special place in my heart.  Recently, my husband and I spent time with two other couples we met in freshman year out in Arizona. It was the first time we had been together in over 12 years.  All married over 25 years and with ten children between us, we enjoyed our time together so easily.  There really is something about  bonds like these.

And then there are my newer friends, many of whom I have met through work or from our adopted hometown, where we have lived now for fifteen years.  It took quite a while for me to grow into my skin; I had to go through my twenties and thirties to put all of the pieces of me together.   My newest friends, who range from the age of my own children to ten years my senior, know me as a mom, teacher and all around experience junky.  They see the “now” me, and we have bonded over recent experiences.  As life moves forward I expect that this bond will stick as well, as we are going through current life events together; watching, helping, and caring about each other as we age.

I found this saying: friends come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. This has helped me deal with friends who have disappeared from my life with seemingly no compunction on their part (but hurt feelings and a sense of loss on mine).   Paths cross, align and sometimes continue off on tangents, never to cross again (but sometimes to reconnect in a lovely way).  Tough but true.  

About ordinarywomanextraordinarylife

I began writing at seven years old. My first rejection was from my mother who would not come off a nickel for a hand-published and self-illustrated scary story. Over thirty-seven years of teaching writing to elementary age children, I honed my skills in storytelling; which led to the completion of my first novel, Woven.
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