“Time to say goodbye.” The title of one of Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli’s most famous and beloved songs.
Our guests leave today after the fastest two week visit in the history of time.
I am convinced they just got here. The mark of a successful visit.
A completely opposite experience to those visitors whose intrusive presence has you praying for them to leave at the earliest possible opportunity.
“Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry?”
Such is the gift of old friends who become – in the best possible way – part of the furniture and your everyday environment. That may sound dismissive, but isn’t. It speaks to the comfort level you have in their company.
I once learned an important distinction between how to treat visitors who were welcome in your home and those who were not.
It was phrasing that would allow someone to feel welcome or not.
“How long are you staying?” a visitor would be asked if they were welcome. “When are you leaving?” if they weren’t. Subtle but significant.
The joy of visitors and of friendship is the back and forth of spending time with others with whom you have a shared history.
You can talk with them about things you may not always talk about with new friends. They know you better. You’ve laid a foundation of mutual understanding over many years.
You explore places you might otherwise not explore. You get to share their company on your home turf and the memories are indelibly etched on the history of your home.
Diane and Gerry’s visit christened our house and converted it to a home. What good is it to have wonderful surroundings unless they are shared with friends and loved ones?
Diane and I shopped. We bitched. We decried the current state of politics and the world. We made meals together. We did laundry. We frequently made each other tea. Just like home.
When the boys got into their World War II and John Wayne movies, we hit the patio sofa and lit a fire.
The familiarity of routine behaviors and familiar conversation was a comfort. Albeit thousands of miles away from our original home.
I find old friends become more important as we grow older. To start, none of us know how much longer we are going to have each other. It is not a maudlin cloak draped over the activities of daily living. It is simply an underlying awareness.
In days gone by, friends were an essential part of our extended communities. I am sure that degree of constant familiarity came with its own challenges. But it also provided a cushion of comfort and companionship.
You were never completely alone. There was always someone to go to in a crisis or dire need, whether large or small. Someone to look after the kids if you needed to run to the store. That sense of belonging never left you. Not always a good thing but a constant you could rely on.
So I wish my dear friends well on their travels home. Out of kindness, I will not share the climate they are returning to. The reality of that will hit them both soon enough.
We have made new memories and strengthened an old friendship. That is emotional capital to draw on in the coming months as hubby and I retreat back into the relative quiet and solitude of our daily lives.
Life is a series of beginnings and endings. Stops and starts. Backing and forthing. These are the natural rhythms of life.
We were blessed to have our friends grace us with their presence these past two weeks (which I am entirely convinced was only three days.) We are blessed to have these friends in our lives, period.
There is that in a visit. A reminder of how important and special these friends are to us and in our lives. We will be less for their absence.
Safe travels, buddies. Thanks for coming to see us and bide awhile.
Expressive Compulsive 