Old Friends, Like Comfort Food

I spent the weekend in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, with my friends Maureen and George. Maureen and I became friends when we worked together in the Tucson Alumnae Club of Pi Beta Phi. We are both writers—she much more so than I (she's published two very well-read books; I've published one that was obsolete six months after publication). We both love classical music and quilts and all things handcrafted. Besides those bonds, we are both former Washingtonians. There's a special bond, I believe, among all people who reside or have resided in that magical city. So we became friends and maintained our friendship after I left Tucson.

Maureen and George have a lovely home on top of a ridge looking down on a river, surrounded by trees and fabulous views. Being surrounded by all that beauty felt restorative to me. Maureen had a neighborhood pot luck on Sunday afternoon, which enabled me to meet lots of interesting people who are spending either their weekends or their lives in those mountains. Both food and conversation were fabulous at this party.

But the best aspect of the weekend was being with old friends. There's nothing like it! Maureen would lie on her new leather couch and read, I would sit on the couch opposite and bead or knit or read, and George would sit in his den and read or watch television. There was a sense of comfort, of all's-right-with-the-world. No one felt like he or she had to entertain or be entertained. After eighteen months of trying to make friends, of being on my best behavior at all times, I could totally relax and be comfortable with friends who had known me for almost ten years.

Aren't old friends the best comfort?!