“The language of friendship is not words, but meanings.” Henry David Thoreau
It only took me like 30 years to remember my oldest friend’s birthday. It is today! TODAY! I got it, I remembered. He did tell me like last month, though. But still….
I love him tremendously and he is my oldest friend. I have known him since I was 16 and he still actually talks to me. I was a snot during the ages of 16 and yesterday. I haven’t always been as good of a friend to him as he has been to me. Today my Happy B-day text was “on time,” not a day late or early as it usually is during every other leap-year when I even remember to wish him Happy Birthday. I told you, I’m the worst (working on it). I hope mine was the first wish of the day! I woke up and on my way to the gym, texted him at like dawn (just to make sure).
I will forever think of you and smile with all the love in my heart when I think of HOME and high school and my 20’s and my 30’s and my 40’s, and Fernside Blvd and Brown Street and turkey sandwiches with avocado on a dutch crunch roll, and Prince, and Christopher Tracy, and record players, and Volkswagen Karmann Ghias, and baseball, and high schoolers hanging out at bus stops, and every house I ever lived in in Alameda, and walking a country mile and then some, and my first marathon, and Sade concerts, and leather jackets with fur around the collar, and shorts, and white dudes with corn rows, and boyfriends who can draw really cool pictures of your yearbook picture and Jodi Watley, and blue eyes, and lava rocks from the Philippines, and talking for hours on the phone, and politeness, and fun, and laughing, and the effort that it takes to be true, and the definition of a real man and a real friend. So… like forever. Happy birthday, dude. I love you.