Coming home

They huddle around a small table. Their heads lean towards each other as they share confidences, laughter, companionable silences. Their hands hug steaming cups of coffee as they marvel at life and all it entails. An occasional hush blossoms between them as they wonder how much longer such meetings will be possible - before their time completely belongs to everyone else, and everything else, but themselves.

Yes, they have their small victories. A friendship sustained through yawning distances and years of immense change. But the future has never seemed more uncertain, and decisions loom heavier on their minds. Will the tomorrow that seems to be speeding closer allow for more of these moments so treasured? Together they feel younger, older, wiser, more inept, more the same, and more different. They share. They learn. They ponder. They disagree. They contradict. They advise. They laugh.

Is there a time in the near future when these oh-so-necessary meetings become impossible luxuries? They are indignant at the mere possibility of growing accustomed to an existence without these simple pleasures. And yet deep down they acknowledge that tomorrow things could be different. They may not hold the same importance to each other a few years, months (days?) from now…

But surely this comfort; this ease of picking up where they left off months before would be impossible to duplicate? Because sometimes it seems as though sanity, and idealism, and hope, and joy are threaded in this bond. Because, the sharing that goes on in these moments, is almost like coming home.