In my office, dimly lit by lamplite. I have something to write. Sade sings "pearls". Children laugh in the hall. I can hear the silence between the sounds. It is velvet, heavy with contemplation. I am visited by memories of the past.
Two friends are out from California. Friends from highschool, friends from camp, friends that stayed friends through college, through the changing years. Yet they have changed little. And I am struck by the difference of our lives. By the difference that stretches between old friends: the only bridge, the change.
How is it that this came to be? I see clearly and with gratitude the path that led me away. The mystery is the path that stayed the same. I had all but believed it to have whithered away.
