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Spurred on by my musings yesterday, I clicked on to Google and managed to find the old friend I'd been writing about. We haven't seen each other since 1978, and our last letters were exchanged around 1980. I never really thought back then about the reality of his being here just for a year; when you're seven, a year is forever. The idea of temporary doesn't quite compute.
He's the one person in my life I've truly regretted losing entirely. I guess, though, that the internet means no one ever entirely disappears. Finding him was easy. The email I sent was a leap of faith. And then, mere hours later--an answer in my inbox. An affirmative answer, no less. He was the right He, and he was glad to hear from me.
Of course, I don't expect that finding him now will create some incredible life-changing friendship. I know that isn't how it works. I don't know that I expect anything from having found him, other than to have my curiosity about what became of him satisfied.
The pockets of our memories are such happy, good safe places. Thinking of him is instant cause for a smile. All these things are good.
His email was wonderful. No hesitation in answering me. No weirdness. No "why would you look for me after all this time?" Surprise, yes. But good surprise.
The Husband seemed reservedly amused by my newfound old friend. "Are you bored here at home during the day," he asked, "so that you need to go looking for old friends on the internet?" I reassured him that I am neither bored by nor dissatisfied with my life. This was just a question that has needed an answer for years.
In my perfect fantasy world, we all become friends. I'd like that--to take such a happy piece of my childhood and bring it forward into my adult life as a positive force. The truth of what's to come remains to be seen. For now, I'll just enjoy the words "Wow! What a surprise to hear from you." and "I'm glad you wrote me. I would love to hear what you have been doing." in my inbox.
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