How many people in your life have known you since you were in kindergarten? Or junior high school? What would you give to be able to see those people every single year? (Okay -- some of them you may not want to see, but suppose it is the group you really like.) I am part of such a group. We meet in January for a weekend. Bring your spouse if he or she is willing. Come for the entire weekend or whatever portion is available. Bring the food you are assigned and the beverage(s) of your choice.
By now we have been friends for many (five? six? not possible!!) decades, and some of the jokes go back that far as well, but they are still just as funny as the first time we heard them. The women do not have gray hair. The men do not have hair. Okay, well some of them do. What hair they have is gray though. A few of us are very slim. A few. I'll leave it at that.
We go for long walks on the beach. Some walk longer than others; some walk faster than others. Some stay back at the house and talk while the others walk. Some stay up late at night and talk. Others slip off to bed at 10:00 and are the first ones up the next morning. Some years we play games -- cards, dominoes, board games, Wahoo. This year I think all the games stayed in the boxes.
We catch up on the events of the past year. Whose children are doing what? Who has new grandchildren? What's your brother doing now? How are your parents -- although increasingly, it is more likely, how is your mom (or your dad)? And increasingly, the answer is, she's okay, but going downhill a bit. We go over who from our class is no longer with us. (This year there are three.) And we remember those we have loved and lost. We tell and re-tell those stories. We laugh and we cry. That is our love for each other. We are no longer so reluctant to say we love each other, because we know how quickly time passes and how possible it is the person we are talking to today may not be here tomorrow.
So when I drove away from the beach house named Quiet Harbor just after noon Sunday my heart was very full. Full of joy and love and gratitude for these wonderful friends and a beautiful weekend away from the rest of the world.
Not far away is the place where my mother lives, and I paid her a surprise visit. She was very happy. A couple of hours later I visited my mother-in-law. When I was getting ready to leave she was very disappointed. She is blind and could not see exactly where I was standing. So she asked, "Where is What's-Her-Name?" I said, "I'm right here." I told her, "I'm not going to leave you. I have to go to work and I'll be back soon." I know she won't remember, but I kissed her and told her I loved her, just as I did my mother.
And just as I did my friends. The lesson of Quiet Harbor.
