An Old Friend

We grew up 20 miles from one another, though we met in 1970.  We lived together in 1971, across the street in 1972, across the country in the '80's and across the county in the '90's.  Now, I live across town from her grandchild and she drives across a state or two to visit us all.

No, it wasn't too hot for here granddaughters to swim in the morning, so her girls became pruney, playing with 30 year old water cannons I've lovingly toted from Chicago to Marin to Tucson, while their Bubbe and I talked about people I haven't thought about in decades.

We reorganized the lives of those we know and love.  We solved the problems of the world.

We agreed that if everyone in the 5 boroughs of New York and the neighboring counties in Connecticut and New Jersey would call 5 people outside The Metropolitan Area (because, as all New Yorkers know, there is only one, real, Metropolitan Area) and tell them what we all know - Donald Trump is a Buffoon.  Has always been a buffoon.  Everyone laughs at him.  No one wants to do business with him. - we could change the course of history.

We took the girls to my new favorite restaurant, Charro Vida, which has the added benefit of being basically gluten and dairy free.  That fits with their guts, and there were chicken tenders and a recognizable burrito on the kids' menu and yummy home made chips and a spicy salsa verde that tempted a suddenly tentative 9 year old.

I love 9 year old girls.

We finished our gelato, which, we agreed with the almost-7-year-old, has more taste than ice cream, and strolled to the Little Blue Truck (which is anything but little).  We made plans for her next visit and for our retirement and I drove away with a smile on my face.

It's lovely when a friendship ages well.