Ode to Old Friends

“I miss my friends so much,” 3-year-old Pearl called out. It was the middle of the night, about 2 months ago. Pearl was sick and semi-delirious, but lucid enough to identify her preschool pals as potential sources of strength in her time of need.

Lately, I’ve been echoing Pearl’s cry inside myself. Since coming back to A-Town full time 10 months ago (we’ve been back 6 ½ years, but I went on working 30 miles away until last August), I’ve faced a “friend funk.” My core group of gals, who gathered almost every day to gobble and gab in the college cafeteria where we worked, has scattered:

· I left the “ivory tower” to love and serve the people of A-Town.
· Elaine relinquished her corner office for an even higher-powered job: “Mommy.”
· Marie went and bought herself a bakery.
· Jess got married and moved to Namibia.

You see what I mean. Winds change. Paths diverge. We try to get together sometimes, but—well, there’s this pesky ocean blocking the way to one of us, and the rest of us might as well live worlds apart, busy as our calendars keep us.

I used to attend a weekly Moms gathering at church, but my schedule since last summer has included work on Thursday mornings—“So long, ladies.”

I have new friends now: a foursome fellowship that convenes periodically; a warm, witty trio of colleagues; lunch with a friend or 2 now and again; and I’d be lost—simply lost—without electronic access to my favorite Londoner.

Still: “I miss my friends so much.” No new ritual has replaced the daily dining-hall dose of cheap eats, easy company, and sunlight streaming into the windows of that other world. I’m not discontent—just waiting for new friend fulfillment to kick in, like comfort food for the soul.