JACK

Memories of my youthful past came rushing forward today when I spoke with an old high school friend I hadn't heard from in years. Our chatter back and forth was at once familiar and knowing; Easy. Comfortable. Confiding. Ours a remembrance, a connection tightly wound of moments shared (clandestine, and otherwise) with another, we both held dear.

"How is she", he asked. "Just fine", I said.

In that second we were teenagers again, reliving the first time he asked me that question, and all it implied. Young love. First love. Secret love.

Recalling our long ago comraderie and Robbers Roost after school, we laughed at our revelry way back then and smiled kindly, remembering
who we were
what we were
where we were
thinking the world was ours to hold and mold; Seeing ourselves as hip and cool.

With his white hair and my wrinkled skin we're no longer young, but growing old. More mellow. Mature (though hopefully, still hip and cool). Grateful for our past, more grateful for what we've become, recognizing
who we are now
what we are now
where we are now
was all in God's plan.