We met for a late lunch last week in a new spot in town, or precisely out of town. A new suburb where air is less polluted, streets are calmer and noise is on decent level.
We haven’t met for long months although our telephone contacts are regular and our care for each other is genuine, but busy life takes each of us to a different world.
With no much details about private lives, I can say we are different in character as well as in the course of our lives, but some bond always tied us together. A wise bond that did not drive our friendship to the burning heat of the closeness or to the downhill road of death.
Three dishes were ordered. Masala beef, Thai seafood noodles and mushroom burger, and the drinks included beer, juice and sparkling water.
Afternoon sun sent warm rays through the glass front of the restaurant, and bit by bit outdoor tables were deserted as customers preferred to go inside to avoid the chilly wind.
Love, sex, marriage, divorce, children, cheating, money, careers, politics, fundamentalism, Europe and Latin America were the vocabulary of our talk.
We agreed and disagreed. Each explained where he is and where he should go. By the end of our talk, I think each of us felt some sort of self-satisfaction. Maybe we just needed the validation of our lives by identifying each others’ less fortunate aspects of lives.
No desert. Coffee was the final order. After we paid the bill, a visit to the toilet was due.
In the car-lined street we stayed few moments paying farewell to each other. Our destinations varied between the home where the family waited, the gym in order to curb the calories and the silent empty apartment.
“Cold in this winter was painful” one said and the others agreed. “Shall we get together again before spring?” One wondered. We were not sure but agreed to try to do.
Why do we long for those visits, those conversations? You name one of the reasons correctly: validation. They corroborate our memory (or our suspicion) of who we have been in others' eyes.
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