Longevity

I saw a dear, old friend at the gas pump today as I was getting fuel for the grass-cutting that I have delayed longer than the optimal ‘one week.’ Old not in the sense of age, as her spirit is and will forever be young -old in terms of longevity of friendship. Maybe because of the moving around so much when I was younger, I don’t have many friends from the days “before Louisiana.” I have my sisters, four of them, who flow in and out of my life, and I have one tried and true friend who has been a part of my life for almost thirty years. He and I marvel at this in our intermittent phone calls and infrequent visits. We are both amazed that we have maintained the closeness, neither of us being particularly adept at the nuances and responsibilities of friendship.

However, this is another thing I have learned in my ’retraining’ for this environment. Families and friends here last for ages and ages. Having been raised in a city in a somewhat nomadic lifestyle, I marvel at that. There is a certain sense of sacredness in knowing the people I interact with every day have known each other since before they were born. Something comforting and at the same time strangely unsettling - to the outsider, at least - that the folks at the 35 year high school reunion quite likely started school together as far back as the first grade.

A trip to the grocery store must always allow for time to visit with the neighbors and friends one will surely meet. I think sometimes about what it would be like to go to the store and never see anyone I know. I have only vague memories of that and am hesitant to choose that way to live, again.

On the other hand, there is an awareness of each other, a degree of knowing, that keeps the outsider forever on the outside. It is not an intentional effort. I have found the people of this area to be warm and welcoming and even surprisingly tolerant. And while they have always shown great kindness, there is too much unshared between us for me to ever feel “one of them.” Or, perhaps there is still too much the eccentric in me.

I do find, nevertheless, a great deal of comfort living here, at the edge of their lives. Only rarely, anymore, do I feel the intruder. And always that is something from within and not from without.