Old Friends. Together Again.

If you ever went to summer camp or were a Girl Scout, you learned a song about friends. “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.” Until a few weeks ago, I’m not sure I truly knew the significance of those words.

Don’t get me wrong; I know the importance of friends. Without them my life would be lonely indeed. Lucky for me I have some incredibly wonderful friends. They cheer me up when I’m sad, share in my triumphs and celebrate joys with me. They support me in creative endeavors, encourage me when I’m unsure and trust me with their secrets. 

As friends, we know each other’s strengths and weaknesses and allow one another the freedom to be ourselves. We listen to each other, cry together and stick up for one another. We know each other better than we know ourselves and allow each to speak our mind no matter what we have to say. However, they are not my childhood friends.

There is a certain delight in reminiscing the carefree days of high school with the person who lived through it along side me. The friend I made when we were young is unique. She rejoiced at my first kiss, and I cried with her when she broke-up at prom. We shared our clothes and our dreams. 

Last week I had a long overdue lunch with my best friend from high school. We hadn’t seen each other in – are you ready? Fifty-one years. That’s right, 51! It’s hard to believe how much time has gone by. The catalyst for our reconnection was our 50th reunion.

I never made it to any of my earlier reunions (the reasons were varied). Ironically, I didn’t make that one either—my grandson chose to arrive that weekend, and I opted to stay and welcome him, instead.

Somehow, after we graduated our lives took different paths. I moved to California. Back then, Facebook, social networking, cellphones and texting didn’t exist. We lost track of each other until the 50th reunion committee posted our class contact info. Christine called immediately, delighted to have found me. We talked and emailed, filling in the missing years. This month, we finally had an opportunity to meet.

It was amazing. It was as if we had only been apart for 51 minutes. Instantly jumping into conversation and sharing personal details like the best friends we used to be.

When I told my granddaughter about meeting my friend again (she recently shared with me she had a new BFF), she gave me a surprised look and said, “Wow! That was a really, really long time.”

She’s right. It was a long time, but our childhood friendship weathered the tests of time and distance with flying colors.

It’s hard to measure the depth of a friendship, but new or old, silver or gold, friends are treasures I intend to cherish and keep—maybe not for another 51 years, but for as long as I’m able.