Relationship Thursdays: Aren't childhood friends simply the best?

Some things change: Probably the best thing about long-term relationships is watching people evolve. You see friends who wouldn't walk half-a-kilometer (even if you bribed them to do it) grow into people who'll walk miles to explore a city with you. You'll see friends who were too mild to stand up for themselves, learn to speak up for what's right, no matter what the cost. You'll watch girls who couldn't give too hoots about how they looked, grow into women as adept with make-up as they always were with witty repartee. You watch some friends become more jaded, whilst others become more accepting and forgiving. And you are grateful that you were there, even if all you did was observe.

Some things stay the same: There's an odd serenity that comes from knowing that some things will never change. What will make someone laugh till they can't stop crying, what will leave someone else with tears running down their faces for no apparent reason, how early some people will show up and how late others will deign to drop in, who's going to remember your birthday and who's destined to forget, who's likely to call out of the blue to tell you a mad joke on a really crappy day, who's going to say the oddest thing in the middle of an even odder situation...—that sense of déjà vu that accompanies childhood friendships that have aged well, make you realise that no matter how much you grow, you will never grow out of some relationships. And that makes you feel like the richest person ever.         

Memories are made of these: Fourteen kids piled higgledy-piggledy atop each other on their way to the beach in an old Fiat, stray kittens called Tipsy and Topsy, holding a funeral procession for a dead bird, sitting in the same room and ignoring each other with books not cell phones, a bus conductor's rather wonky image of the whole gang together in the days before selfies... and the many beautiful experiences you forget until an old friend suddenly digs it up from their own pile of memories. And somehow even if you can't quite remember what they're talking about, you're glad that there's someone around who remembers the things you have forgotten and the person that you were.    

Silences are not threatening: There are spaces where you can do and be and say exactly what you want to and there are spaces where there is absolutely no need to say and be or do anything. And these are the spaces where you know you belong and always will. These are the spaces you create with people who will be there no matter what, people who will stand up in court and defend you even in the face of evidence that your behaviour has been less than exemplary, people you are not afraid to call you a fool to your face when you're acting like one, people who will respect that your need to keep things to yourself is not a reflection of the strength or depth of your relationship.        

Vintage 1982: Much like wine's ability to age depends on factors including the type of grapes involved, the wine-growing region and it's climate, the processes involved, I'd like to believe that vintage friendships are the product of the people in them and all that they have been through together and apart. But seeing as how you can never predict what will be a good year for wine, I feel truly blessed for all the beautiful people who have grown up with me. Here's knowing we will reach a ripe old age together and be richer for our vintage relationships. Cheers!