There’s just something about old friends. Friends you’ve known for years and years and years.
Yesterday, I took an afternoon train to Baltimore to see my best friend M. from college who lives in rural Oregon with her husband and two small boys. She’s an anesthesiologist and had to take her medical boards. She was staying at the Sheraton Inner Harbor.
It was spitting rain, the city was gray. But as I pulled up in the cab and saw her standing on the street, the gray day drifted away. I was so excited to see her. And we immediately fell into step like no time had passed. I was instantly comfortable and relaxed. I last saw her two years ago for a long weekend when her first son was 18 months old, she was pregnant with her second and they were still living in Portland, Ore. Now, just two years later, life is different for both of us.
But as soon as were in each others’ company, we didn’t stop talking. We went upstairs to drop off my bag, walked up the street to the Caribou Coffee and sat at two high stools and talked for three hours. Then we wandered to an Indian place up Charles St. and gorged on butter and garlic naan and chicken tikka masala and we talked and laughed and talked. By 9 p.m., we were both exhausted, so we crawled into bed and and watched light play on the ceiling and kept talking until after midnight like two schoolgirls. I’ve always said that M. is like a sister and it’s amazing that that doesn’t change, no matter how much time passes.
This morning, she left early to catch a flight back west and I slept till 6:30 and hopped a 7:30 train back to D.C. On the train, I profoundly missed her. I wish we didn’t live so far away. Luckily, we have a trip planned in July. I’ll get to meet her second son and she’ll get to meet A. I’m so excited.