keep the old

One of the harder parts of our peripatetic lifestyle is the making and losing of many friends.

During the first year we lived in Latvia we had a nice group of good friends our age. None of us had kids and thus I have fond memories of long afternoons spent in the Irish pub in Riga. It was one of the few places in the city where you could get onion rings, and, oddly enough, they made great chimichangas. We would eat and drink and laugh and do all the things that young, childless people do.

After a year, these friends went on to other postings and we lost touch. I'm terrible at keeping in touch, even with my family. I don't write many letters or emails. I don't send cards for birthdays. I probably should, but between my two little darlings, working full time, and keeping the house reasonably decent I have to let a lot of things slip.

However, due to a series of fortunate events, we were able to have a mini Riga reunion this morning. One friend, who lives in Serbia, is spending the week in the U.S. for training. The other friend drove up from Norfolk. It has been four years since I have seen them. Four years, people, since we lived in Latvia. Four years since I have seen these friends of mine. It feels like four minutes ago.

We feasted on egg and pepper strata, banana muffins, and cantaloupe. Instead of watching cricket on the tvs at the pub, we watched Miss Cheeks and Miss Bee play wildly. (Oh do they love to show off for guests.) And then we talked about our home renovation projects. We parted with no false promises of renewed friendship. But I do sincerely hope that it will be less than four years before I see these wonderful ladies again.