Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be better, or at least less costly, to board the place up in the winter and live in a teepee somewhere along the coast of Belize. But then, I’d miss the friends who still find Four Cedars Farms a welcome respite from their city lives, even in winter, and ask to come down for the weekend. Some time their visits to hockey games at the University; some will come to help with winter pruning in the vineyard; some want to break out the snow shoes or cross-country skis; still others come just because we’re here. Thinking about each of them makes it easier for me to write the check for propane without feeling too badly about it. You can’t put a price on friendship.
Of course, friends will come and go throughout a lifetime. Some come into our lives exactly because we need their special gifts at the time. But then they eventually drift away. There’s no need to feel bad about those friendships. I’ve heard them described as seasons – each playing a distinct role in the “year” that is our lifespan.
Sometimes, though, friendships can span decades; in those cases, it’s often shared history that cements the friendship more than what we are able to offer one another. After all, our needs and their gifts, and vice versa, change a lot in the span of twenty or thirty years. It is the past, more than the present, that carries these friendships forward. We bask in remembrance of the persons we once were; we compare ourselves, then and now, to see how far we've come, or not come, how far we've grown or not grown. Looking at an age-old friend is like looking in a mirror.
I believe it’s important to stay open to new friendships. Friendships can come at surprising times in one’s life and can be formed in unexpected places. I know a woman who first met her very best friend when she was in her 50s. It was like we’d known each other all our lives, she said of her best friend. Some people just click that way and it’s sort of lovely to know that aging doesn’t exempt us from forming new friendships — important friendships.
Speaking of age, one of my newest friends, who I met last summer, had a birthday yesterday. She turned nine. Sure, there’s a forty year difference in our ages (and our world view) but this friend of mine is no less valued to me that my friend, whom I saw Monday, and with whom I shared a locker in tenth grade.
Both of these friends have a special place in my heart this week; Julie, who I met in 1975 and who buried her mom on Tuesday, and Sam, who turned nine on Wednesday. Both of these friends are with me in spirit, if not in flesh, and the simple thought of them warms my heart.
And here’s a bonus: writing about my friends warms my fingers. That’s more than the now-filled tank of propane has ever been able to do.
Old Friend: Julie and middle daughter, Nikki. Our shared history started in a school hallway in 1975.
New Friend: Samantha decorated her own cake for her birthday. I wonder if she got a horse?
Cherished friendships warm our hearts and our souls. That's especially important now when we are surrounded by so much coldness. And I'm not talking about the weather, folks.
