When I was a sophomore in high school, I had a very good friend. We were in band together, we hung out after school at the arcade together, and yes, mom, we were drinking buddies together. We spent hours in each other's company, and we were happy. But it was high school, and I lived in a very conservative small town in Oklahoma, and I let juvenile whisper campaigns make me feel confused and uncertain. They said my friend wasn't like most of the other kids. He was different. He wasn't interested in me or any other girl in "that way." He liked boys, they insinuated. I was immature and didn't have the right answer handy, which should have been, "So what?" While I never actively pushed him away, I also let distance build between us. By the time he graduated (a year before I did), we hardly spent any time together at all. And then I never saw him again. I carried around gallons of guilt, wishing I had stood by him more closely. I hated that I never knew what happened to him. For decades, the one biggest regret I had out of school was letting him disappear without telling him he had my full support for the person he was, exactly as he was.
And then Facebook was invented. I've gotten answers to so many of my great mysteries in life, learning who was still alive and who wasn't, who grew up and did well, who was cool but struggling, and who wasted their lives on drugs or crime (I mostly heard that second-hand). One day, a few years ago, I saw my old friend's name pop up when someone else I knew friended him. I was overjoyed, firstly just to know that he was still around at all, and secondly that I would get a second chance to be the friend and ally I should have been all along. He accepted my request, and has graciously allowed me back into his life with a generous heart. We have been talking more and more over the last couple years, and when I went back to Oklahoma last weekend, I dedicated an entire day of a very short trip just to reconnecting with him in person. We went out to dinner (that much I shared with my cousin and his family), and then we went back to his house for a bottle of wine (each) and what essentially felt like a slumber party. We stayed up until well past one in the morning, telling each other volumes of what we'd missed in each other's lives over the last (some number of) years. We discovered that we are indeed still the best of friends, and even though we had talked often electronically for years, I really felt like I finally made up for not being the staunch defender I should have been as a sixteen year old. And I eased a fear I held for all this time, that he didn't really forgive me for it. I am fairly certain he does.
I took pictures of his new digs, a mid-century modern house (we really are alike, even after all this time!) with a beautiful yard that just needed a little freshening but instead got torrential rains every time something bloomed, a pool with a hidden secret that I think I unearthed (pun intended), and a lovely, rotund, dilute tortie cat who is the most spoiled creature in all of Oklahoma (I adored her). He took me on a tour of the air traffic control training center at OU, and I felt very weird taking pictures there, like the security cameras were watching me do it and frowning in displeasure. I felt like I asked good questions, that showed more than a passing understanding of the language of ATC. I was so proud of myself. I hope sometime soon he can come out here, and I can show off my MCM house once it is fixed up. Which means I need to get back to work so it is ready someday. Someday...
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