Making new friends is an exciting endeavor which grows lovelier with age.
The energy created as we get to know one another, sharing our stories...telling them for the first time as though they'd just happened yesterday all the while creating new stories and filing them away under the "Remember when we first met" category.
It's like...discovering an author I've not read - cracking open the cover of a new novel, letting my fingers run over the smooth, crisp pages, discovering a new world...a time, a place, characters of whom I'm not familiar and of which I have no part...yet. Turning each page and reveling in the unknown, discovering the plot, connecting with the protagonist again and again, finding reflections of myself in pages not about me but still about me...about us now.
Old friends - they are my well-loved classics - my Austen, Dickens, Salinger, Whitman, Rand. I envelope myself in the sweetness of the familiar faces and stories...stories I love to relive again and again. Irreplaceable, my old friends are. In some instances, there are now decades of stories we share - lives intertwined.
And each new friend is met with the enthusiasm that can only come with the hope of adding a new classic to my ever growing collection of lovely stories...of lives connecting, intertwining, and growing together in new ways.
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