you pick up the phone to call a friend and realize that you are on the line with yourself 5 years ago... Part 2

I say "Part 2" but this is not a continuation of the last story. It's what a conversation with myself from 5 years ago would really be like. 

Astoria, OR

“You remember Dexter?” I asked my younger self.

“Yeah! The Canadian that almost got us killed?” I exaggerated.

“Yup, the one who always said that' life was about the journey'.” Elder me confirmed.

“What about him?”

“Well, he’s right. You will probably always be re-evaluating what you want to do with your life, but while you are doing so, don’t forget to enjoy yourself.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Do you REALLY want a preview, or do you want it to be a surprise?”

Laguna Beach, CA

“Preview please!” younger me begged.

“Gah, FINE!” I replied, exasperated. These youngin’s,  so damn impatient; and here I thought I was different and more mature at that age. I guess not. Hmph.

“In these 5 years, you will meet over 100 people. You will live in unexpected places and will travel to over 20 new cities across 7 countries and 3 continents. You will go through some good times and some bad. “

“While that’s nice to hear, it’s still somewhat vague, “  younger me observed.

“I know, so get off the phone and START LIVING!” And with that I hung up.

BBF

This was the first piece I wrote. A quick narrative just to see what I could come up with. 

You have to start somewhere, right?

I met her when I was 12. She came up to me, a little shy, and said “hi”.

Not too long after that, I started getting notes from her. I can’t remember what they said, but I remember they were frequent and they were long. It took me a while to realize she liked me. I kind of figured that out when she started calling and talking to me for hours. Man, could she talk!

I didn’t mind the conversations and well, she paid me attention. I didn’t know what to say or what to do so I just listened. What can I say? I ‘m a typical guy and I was young then, girls were a mystery to me.

Years went by. I would tell her things that I didn’t share with anyone else. Not everything, but only what I was comfortable enough saying aloud. She was open and encouraging, so I kept testing the waters to see how far I could go.

We became best friends and I trusted her far more than I had ever trusted anyone else. She was so genuine and always made me feel like she really cared what I had to say.

Our friendship spanned over several decades, and would ebb and flow as most relationships do. I helped her through her parents’ divorce, several broken relationships, and through life in general. She reciprocated when I let her.

We always remained close, even when we were ebbing. I felt like she had a connection to me, as she always seemed to drop me a quick note when things were at their worst.

I had never met someone who was so kind and generous. She gave of herself as if she had an unlimited supply of love. She paid attention to things that mattered little to me, but were what she could control.

I never fell in love with her, it just wasn’t there. But I appreciated her and loved her in the only way I knew how. It was an unselfish love. I realized that I could never reciprocate her feelings so I always encouraged her to see the opportunities she had and the happiness that lie before her. I cared about her and wanted her to be happy.

Even as I sit here, staring at her grave, missing our silly conversations, our witty banter, I have to give her credit. She’s the only person in my life that was always there for me.