O hay, there’s that kid again. You know the one. He’s the kid we met earlier, about 40 years ago.

He’s looking pretty happy right about now. Sitting there, just yakkin’ with his friends. Listening to stories and sharing some too.

He’s getting up now, so I’ll scoot out of his way.

There he goes. Opening up a cooler, grabbing another beer.

Hang on a second.

GETTING ANOTHER BEER?

Checking again.

Ah. O, hey, that’s me, then. That’s me. Me, chatting with friends, swapping stories. Me.

I look at my friends again.

They are in the set of my “first best friends”. Traditionally known as “family”.

These folks sitting in front of me are part of a wider net of people who have shaped who I want my friends to act and sound like. My dad and mom took great pains to drive our little family to meet with our wider family multiple times a year, for many years.

We don’t choose our family we’re born or brought into. In this case I have been extremely blessed to have been brought into this family. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings all – bar none – have been supportive, patient, and understanding when I have taken roads best left untraveled. When I’ve disappeared or have been distant. When choices I’ve made have stuck me out in what I thought was a peninsula of abandonment.

(Psst – spoiler alert – I was never alone, but just not seeing the family ties around me).

My original plan for this weekend was to take a quick 2-day visit and hug necks of family off the back of a recent funeral gathering. I’d bring my grandson and my daughter along if they were willing and able to make that quick trip.

Well, that happened, and more, which is why that kid showed up.

Unbeknownst to me, the organizer had asked for all of her siblings to show up, as well as all the siblings I’d gone to see for the funeral. That was of course not because of me, but was an outcome I hadn’t planned on.

So this precise gathering of people – which happens extremely rarely – represented a time I’d thought was long forgotten and done.

But it wasn’t.

Please take note: My story here of course does not diminish at all the fondness I have for my other first best friends. These would be those who saw me daily for years, not so daily for a while, and then only on occasion, and then only rarely, until I got plugged into the family social engagements again. I can dedicate an entire website to my “growing up family with siblings”. I may still do so!

Speaking of my siblings, I saw this weekend the same kind of magic happen that happens when we wind up in a room together: Time disappears.

I mean, time was still there, hanging on a wall clock, in our phone displays, in the lengthening shadows of the tall pines overlooking the lake we were facing. It was there in the quiet yawns of those enjoying the tales but not wanting to miss a word. There in a way that presses on us, but we press back harder, willing it away. It was reminding me that yes, I have a 3:30 am alarm going off to make the drive and airport parking and security navigation mazework.

But at the same time, it was GONE.

Sidebar: I have always been an analyst, asking questions and mentally recording feedback for questions like:

* How much time does it take to walk to school,
* how many steps are in a standard flight of stairs,
* why does a helium balloon on a string move forward when the car accelerates,
* etc.

So when that kid was around 40-some years ago when this group of family-friends would gather, he was observing, absorbing, analysing. Mostly just being happy he was included in this group of awesome people. But at the same time, he was measuring things. He was getting an imprint of what life should be like.

So about this “time stands still” thing…

One of my grandkids was there as well. He’s around the same age as that kid we met earlier. Give or take a few memories.

I saw my first best friends here react and interact with him the same way they did with a much, much younger me. They didn’t have to be so kind and understanding and willing to overlook his more than a few social faux pas moments. They could have very easily said, “Hey, momma, your son needs something to do” and could have gone along with their chats amongst each other.

But no. They brought him into their circle, showed him how to participate, corrected him when needed, and are leaving their indelible mark on his heart. All with respect and courtesy. My heart exploded with joy and pride as a result.

THIS – this is what I expect from my friends. And these are the people responsible for my expectation.

I held up a silent toast of thanks to all those who are who they are. We will not all be around forever in body, but for now, we can only be the best first best friends we can be to each other.