i hung out with an old guy friend last night...it made me smile, and i decided to recap our strange and strictly platonic friendship over the years:
sort of a reminder to myself to never forget old friends or grow up too fast....
age sixteen...we are sitting in a diner downtown...you are annoying me as usual. i am forcing you to order the chocolate chip pancakes instead of the chicken salad. you regret eating carbs for the rest of the day.
we are seventeen. i used to hate you passionately for your criticisms of me. and for your closed mind. you thought i was an insane drunken wild-child who was going to eventually burn in hell. i just thought you needed to get the stick out of your ass and drink a beer.
i drink senior year away and we don't talk that much.
a year went by after high school.
we are nineteen. i'm home for some reason from pittsburgh. we are sitting on the asphalt and dive to the bottom of a bottle of southern comfort and a pack of reds and we talk about life for the first time in years. i don't even remember what season it was but the air was changing and there were little goosebumps on my arms. i can't believe you are actually out-drinking me.
(i knew you always secretly wanted the pancakes)
we are twenty.i guess we see each other about once a year now. i've dropped out of college and moved three times. you are almost done with college. i'm visiting home from pittsburgh and editing your final paper for law class. we are eating lemon cookies your grandma made and they are so good we accidentally finish the entire batch. i'm getting a good buzz off of vodka/diet mountain dews, they complimented the cookies quite nicely. i'm telling you stories from the previous year and you are fascinated with my life. you play guitar and sing so well now. i listen for almost an hour and it gives me chills. we don't speak the entire time but it isn't awkward at all. i realize how far we have come. we have one of the greatest and most inspiring conversations of my life to this day. i was going to write a blog about it and name it lemon cookies that night, but i never did.
we are twenty one now. i'm living here and you are working out of town for the summer. my car is a crumpled clusterfuck of metal. my life is a mess. i'm waking up each day and going to sleep and giving up hope in between. everyone here disappeared, i guess they gave up. i'm hanging by a string. i'm on a smoke break, i'm so sick of my job. i'm so sick of everything. i have a voicemail from you just telling me to hang in there. i realize what a true friend is and that i don't have very many. i still have that voicemail.
...its been a few months. now you're visiting "home" and i'm the one who's already here. i realize i don't like this. we are sitting at the bar, my kidneys are fucked up right now so you are the only one drinking. funny change of pace. we head back to chill in your mom's kitchen and watch movies like always. you are about to open the door and i'm thinking about the night of the lemon cookies from almost two years ago. damn....those cookies were good.
i'm setting down my bag and whining about my sobriety. i start to open my mouth and ask if you remember that night but you started talking at the same time. i tell you to go ahead. you pick up a big tupperwear container off of the counter and tell me your grandma hasn't made these in years but....
do you want a lemon cookie?
sort of a reminder to myself to never forget old friends or grow up too fast....
age sixteen...we are sitting in a diner downtown...you are annoying me as usual. i am forcing you to order the chocolate chip pancakes instead of the chicken salad. you regret eating carbs for the rest of the day.
we are seventeen. i used to hate you passionately for your criticisms of me. and for your closed mind. you thought i was an insane drunken wild-child who was going to eventually burn in hell. i just thought you needed to get the stick out of your ass and drink a beer.
i drink senior year away and we don't talk that much.
a year went by after high school.
we are nineteen. i'm home for some reason from pittsburgh. we are sitting on the asphalt and dive to the bottom of a bottle of southern comfort and a pack of reds and we talk about life for the first time in years. i don't even remember what season it was but the air was changing and there were little goosebumps on my arms. i can't believe you are actually out-drinking me.
(i knew you always secretly wanted the pancakes)
we are twenty.i guess we see each other about once a year now. i've dropped out of college and moved three times. you are almost done with college. i'm visiting home from pittsburgh and editing your final paper for law class. we are eating lemon cookies your grandma made and they are so good we accidentally finish the entire batch. i'm getting a good buzz off of vodka/diet mountain dews, they complimented the cookies quite nicely. i'm telling you stories from the previous year and you are fascinated with my life. you play guitar and sing so well now. i listen for almost an hour and it gives me chills. we don't speak the entire time but it isn't awkward at all. i realize how far we have come. we have one of the greatest and most inspiring conversations of my life to this day. i was going to write a blog about it and name it lemon cookies that night, but i never did.
we are twenty one now. i'm living here and you are working out of town for the summer. my car is a crumpled clusterfuck of metal. my life is a mess. i'm waking up each day and going to sleep and giving up hope in between. everyone here disappeared, i guess they gave up. i'm hanging by a string. i'm on a smoke break, i'm so sick of my job. i'm so sick of everything. i have a voicemail from you just telling me to hang in there. i realize what a true friend is and that i don't have very many. i still have that voicemail.
...its been a few months. now you're visiting "home" and i'm the one who's already here. i realize i don't like this. we are sitting at the bar, my kidneys are fucked up right now so you are the only one drinking. funny change of pace. we head back to chill in your mom's kitchen and watch movies like always. you are about to open the door and i'm thinking about the night of the lemon cookies from almost two years ago. damn....those cookies were good.
i'm setting down my bag and whining about my sobriety. i start to open my mouth and ask if you remember that night but you started talking at the same time. i tell you to go ahead. you pick up a big tupperwear container off of the counter and tell me your grandma hasn't made these in years but....
do you want a lemon cookie?
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