I hitched to Peterborough, Ontario this afternoon: a town I'll always associate with the infamous song about patio lanterns because of the summers I spent there, Kim Mitchell's voice broadcasting from every porch.
Earlier today, I visited a good friend I've managed to keep for over a decade, despite our years of living in different cities/countries/continents. He got married a couple of months ago in a spontaneous sort of way...so I figured I needed to bring him a string of cans to tie to the back of his future car...or maybe to his belt loop so that he could ceremoniously piggy-back his wife around the town.Tokens exchanged, formalities over with very quickly, we caught up at an old haunt in the city we first met in however long ago.
The thing about catching up--or thinking that you'll catch up--is that it always raises more questions than it answers. We've put the friendship in a trunk for a while, both doing our things, and go to shake it out today only to notice that while it's still there, it's a little moth-eaten. There are holes. Like: I don't know what his favourite color is, where he's liked living the most, the details about the day he met his now-wife. Lots of mysteries.
The good thing about catching up, though, is we sort of patched up the old friendship: stitched on newer, mismatched bits of ourselves to the ol' thing. Made it different. Brighter, almost. Stronger.
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