road map

June 20, 2022

I have a handful of friends that I’ve known for as long as I can remember. My memories of them span the gamut, from sandpit fights to vomiting out of car windows. They’re my road map back to where I started. When they send me pictures of their children I feel that I know the kids so well. The hair, the nose, the stance –– it’s all so familiar. That was the face I threw sand at. That was the ponytail I held back while you vomited out the window. Given that I am far from where I started, and not just geographically, that road map is really precious to me. I think about them all the time; Sunday lunches, our love for Christian Slater, and how we supported each other through deaths and divorces and Bet Lynch leaving Coronation Street. I wonder what their kitchens look like, and what music they play on the school run. The wonderful thing is, and I know this for certain, that we’d pick up right where we left off if face to face. Lower ponytails. Wrinklier faces.


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