Old friends

Three times this week I got to spend some quality time with friends that I don't see as often as I'd like. All three times, I left thinking about specific points in my life where I was seeing those friends more regularly. Every conversation brought back pleasant memories, from road trips to Cleveland, to ice-covered pond Ultimate, to Thursday nights watching TV. It also made me think about the curious way that time seems to compress and expand in my mind. In my mind, change is the distinct divider. So, even though I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in September (or August?) of 2002 with one friend and was hanging out watching Friendswith another by December 2002, those three months seem impossibly far apart, while December 2002 and December 2004 where Friends was a common occurrence seem to be wrapped up in a bundle with several more years since. The difference is that in September of 2002 I was in Ohio, but by December I was in Maryland. Where the timing failed, geography stood strong.

I need markers to keep my memory going and my timelines even slightly intact. The move to this area was a major marker. I would think the move to my new house will be another major marker, and if my evening in the Spring was any indication it will be. I've only been in the house a few months, but already the Spring seems far away. I was nostalgic for the good- dinner and cinema down the street and surprisingly reminded of how pleased I am with the pleasures that have become normal- a washer and dryer down the hall. I don't know what the next marker will be or how many months or years will get bundled here, but it does seem that I've entered a new divider.

As a footnote, this notion of dividers seems woefully incomplete; there's also a complicated cross-referencing system going on, but Grey's Anatomy hasn't given me enough neuroscience to get into that.