You can't go home again...

It was a beautiful day, one of those bright, sunny ones that you want to put in a bottle and release its contents in the winter when everything seems so dead. I was in a familiar neighborhood when my thoughts turned to an old friend who lived there.

The friend had recently come upon hard times. I recalled large laughing groups who came to his house to celebrate and to catch up on news, gossip, and sometimes do a little business. I looked forward to my visits because I knew our Host would have invited a disperse group where everyone gained something from attending.

All of that had ended. The big house that used to hold so many in tight quarters now seemed cavernous—sort of like when the kids go off to College and what seemed to be so little room was now way more than needed. It was sad.

I wondered what would become of my friend. There were rumors that he was sick, maybe even terminally so. I had heard he was moving in with a distant Cousin in Las Vegas, and I wondered how he would adjust to such a stark-looking place. I knew the Cousin as well, and while we always had a great relationship it was a challenge to see how the two of them would be able to co-exist.

My friend liked a certain crowd. The Cousin liked that group too, but not nearly as well. I imagined the awkwardness that could ensue when my friend invited a group to get together. We’d be there in this strange house in the desert, far away from the blue lake that abutted my friend’s house.

And what if the Cousin decided to invite some of his friends as well? I had come to visit the Cousin from time to time and his friends were very different. Would there be conflict? Will we be as comfortable in the Cousin’s environment?

All of that was washing over me as I stared at the big, empty house. I remembered the great times and the times that weren’t so great. About the time I was close to surrendering to my more maudlin predisposition I realized that it was all for the best. I decided to call my friend to get his take.

He told me that he saw the move to his Cousin’s house as a way to re-energize himself. A different climate might be just the tonic. He planned to take it easy for a year, and said we might have a party in a year or so. And that he was keeping the old house and hoped to hold a soiree there from time to time as well.

But he said the Fall wasn’t as attractive to him anymore—he said he was thinking about holding the get-together in the Spring, when hopes are renewed and the temperature went up instead of down. There was enthusiasm in his voice, and hopefulness.

I was relieved. Far from dying, my friend was looking to the future and to better things. The cold sting of the past few years might melt in the desert heat. And, returned to health, he would become again that which he was before.

I hope so…

Pete