This past week brought a very quick trip back to Missoula for work meetings. I have shared that I normally hate returning “home” because that area of the state feels really empty without family there anymore. This trip was different though and perhaps everything is going to be all right.
I was delighted to have a high school friend reach out to see if I wanted to meet up and have coffee while in the area. I had not seen this friend since our ten-year high school reunion (1996). When my friend walked through the door my first thought was that I would recognize her anywhere. She looked the same as she did in high school and suddenly, as we sat there chatting about our current lives and past shenanigans, the years melted away. We laughed, we plotted, and I remembered all the reasons I had always loved this beautiful, funny, smart lady. It never ceases to amaze me how childhood friends help us form such strong core memories that can come rushing back when looked for. The years had flown by, and we both agreed that it is at times jarring to look in a mirror and have our mothers staring back at us, and then we laughed, and the conversation flowed along. We hugged goodbye, said “I’ll see you in ten years” and my heart was full. I walked back to my hotel full of coconut oolong tea, memories, and gratitude.
The next day included a full slate of meetings followed by an evening reception. A group of us who were staying at the same hotel walked to reception. The weather was spectacular, and it was fun to see all the people on the streets in Missoula enjoying dinner, walks, and family time. We also saw things that I would not classify as “family time” but I deviate. Our hosts for the evening had graciously opened their beautiful home, backyard, and refrigerator for the event. As I was scooping broccoli florets on my plate, the hostess (who I also consider a friend and someone I love) came into the dining room carrying a platter of cold shrimp. She looked at me and said that she had read my blog and wanted me to be greeted with a shrimp ring while on my visit back home. That thoughtful and loving gesture hit me in my feelers, and I ate my body weight in chilled shrimp. Just for a minute, I missed my parents a little less and felt a little more gratitude in my heart for what I have here with me everyday instead of longing for the past.
Within twelve hours of devouring a shrimp ring, I received a phone call from Aaron letting me know that he had been injured while dispatched on a fire, had been released from the emergency room, and was at home in a full leg brace waiting for an MRI to be scheduled. I cut my trip short and broke a land speed record to get home to Miles City. I gassed the vehicle in Three Forks (my only stop of the 500+ mile trip) and anxiously waited to see the rims at Billings and the rolling prairie to signify I was getting closer to home. I blew through Butte way too early to pick up the promised Pork Chop John’s order and spent last night staring at Aaron and recreating his beloved double-dog sandwich that I had intended to grab for him. Next week will bring a trip to Billings and surgery, but nevertheless, he will recover and be back to fighting form in a couple of weeks. I am now signing off to make sure that he is breathing and sleeping the way I think he should be (lucky him) and reflecting upon how lucky I am to have people in my life (currently) that I love.
2 responses to “Maybe Time is the Great Healer?”
Tell Aaron to get healed up !
Will do!