Our
houses backed up to each other, a dirt path running between the
garages was worn smooth from our back and forth. At age seven and for
the next ten years, we were in choir together down at St Paul's, four
days a week. We rode my motorcycle through our last two years of High
School. The winter numbness in my hands, cold, frozen claws really,
didn't warm until third period. This picture was taken in 1978,
Athens, Ohio. David had earned a degree in Architecture from OU, I
was in grad school studying Interpersonal Communications. But mostly
I studied my new wife and the THC content of Colombian ganja that I
got from my brother. David went on to a life of adventure. I moved
back to the Washington, DC area for work and a domestic, predictable
life. He and I couldn't be more different. David is happiest when
sailing alone in rough water that tries to erase all trace of him and
his boat. I just want to put on some tunes and make a nice pot of
soup. Whenever we get together, nothing is changed between us. Close
friends, more like brothers, really. We just pick it right up as if
the time in between was seconds instead of years. Right this minute
though, I have no idea where David is, or what adventure he's
enjoying, more frequently, now that he's retired. I still work, part
time, and look forward to later today when I get to do my favorite
things...going home, putting on some tunes, and making a great dinner
to share with Carla, who I still study but have yet to figure out.
.
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