The panicky freak out really only lasted as long as the anniversary. I never stay upset very long – I am too busy thinking about campanology, or whatever, to indulge messy emotions.
I’ve had mild reactions to the anniversary more often than not in recent years, so will presume my emotions were at least influenced by the oddity of hearing from lots of misplaced old friends lately.
By the time I finished drinking my tea yesterday it was back to normal programming (including watching the Rockford Files), and today has been entirely delightful. Mostly I wandered around letting friends feed me meals I think of as uniquely American. Like pancakes. For dinner I had steak and mashed potatoes, fondly remembering good times with Mash and her family, going to barn sales on Fox Island, listening to 45’s, rolling around on a new carpet shrieking with delight.
I remember a little store on the bay where we bought beef jerky and malted ice cream, and visiting a derelict cemetery just above. I remember an ill-advised effort to play tennis in which I bashed my own wrist rather than the ball. I remember a road trip to her grandparents lake cabin, and dinner in a diner where we played pinball.
I remember decency, and laughter, and love. I am lucky beyond words to have met that family, and to remain friends over the course of a tricky twenty-five years.