The opening line of one of my favorite songs goes; "This is for the lions living in the wiry, broke-down frames of my friend's bodies." Every time I hear that song, I think of the same old group of friends.
I returned to Fort Worth last Saturday night for an impromptu reunion with my oldest and some of my best friends. I haven't seen these wonderful folks that much or at all for about 6 or 7 years due to moving out to Graham, Texas, to take a reporting job, stumbling through a failed engagement and other difficult relationships, the sickness and death of my father and all those other lovely circumstances that constitute "life" as an "adult."
Every time I hear that song, Twin Size Mattress, I'm struck with nostalgia for days-by-gone causing trouble and living easy with these people.
Things have settled down a bit over the last few weeks for me — finally. And the anniversary of the tragic death of one of our closest friends, Dave, gave us all an excuse to get our shabby, worn-out frames together again.
I'll confess, a lot of these folks have stayed much closer to one another then I have - something that has caused me great regret over the last few years. It was very vindicating to be accepted back.
At Shipping and Receiving
Dave was love and friendship embodied. He made every single person around him feel special and welcome. When he passed, it simultaneously rocked our group of friends to the core and galvanized us. It was the shocking moment I realized how short and fragile life is and that neither me nor my friends are indestructible.
It always made me glow when the coolest guy in the room greeted my arrival with a warm hug, and Dave somehow did that for every single person he came across. It only makes senes that a gathering in his name would be so wonderful.