Tonight I am thinking about a million sleepovers, games of horse, DnD, a bunch of board games, Weekends of Risk, Axis and Allies, hotels, monopoly and a bunch I'll never remember. I am nostalgic for summer nights of kick the can and ghosts in the graveyard - hiding in my neighbors bushes, lightning bugs in my face, praying to get caught (secretly). A thousand make-up games, sword battles, treasure hunts, supernatural investigations and goblin raiding parties. Riding bikes and moldy basements. Tents and sleeping bags. Late summer nights staring at the stars, longing for a freedom I think we already had.
I am remembering being a part of special friendships, not based on agendas and what we can do for each other, but based simply on who we were to each other, friends. Not special because they were better than anyone else's, special because they were mine.
I have been working so long to reclaim my sense of adventure, of mystery, of heightened awareness by revisiting these memories and finding them still very much alive inside me. I am remembering the boys we were and honoring the men we've become. I am grateful to have been forged in the fires of these friendships and wouldn't have picked anyone else. Keith Creighton, Brad Creighton, Jeffrey Sean Soderberg, Jeff Mackin and the elusive Jon Cox, thank you.