Stupid, Happy Messages

I got a delightful voicemail message today from my dear friend of a gazillion years, North. All it said was, "Hey, Butthead, it's me. Call me back, dude, I've got stuff to tell you!" Then a whole bunch of people in the background started laughing.

When I called North back, he said he was in Aspen filming a movie. It made me remember Colorado intensely. There, I spent all my free time in the mountains with North and my best friend in the known universe, Alistair. We would ride jeep trails, swim, shoot targets with a 22, explore, and camp out. Sometimes we would play poker or even chess in the middle of nowhere.

Those times are the reason I want to live. I remember that sense of freedom, and remember that it's possible for me to find it again. I remember how it felt to be able to sleep anywhere, say anything, wear anything, and make any sound on earth and not be heard.

I will carry my friendships from that time all the way through this life. Not many friendships last from childhood into the end, but these will. They have lasted through grade school, college, thousands of miles, loves, fights, marriages, family struggles, and changing careers. They will last through everything else, too. No matter what, we all still talk every week. Sometimes we talk every day.

Since Alistair and I can't play chess in person now, we're playing long-distance. We call each other up and say, "white pawn A-2 to A-4, jackass. Take that!" We like to play chess, of course, but it's really just an excuse for companionship. It's a way for us to stay best friends, even though we can't have beer and ice cream for dinner on his bedroom floor anymore.

We're ridiculous when Alistair, North and I get together with all our old friends. We laugh so hard, and we say things we could never say to people we met as adults. We keep our arms around each other and walk through the woods and the fields with swagger and ease. Our legs are used to the terrain, and we don't look down, even as we walk over rock formations and scale the timberline. Conversations float through topics without a thought. Like a school of fish, we all somehow know where the others are going and follow, but no one in particular leads.

Lately, I've been feeling like a kid in grade school does when all the other kids are in a group, doing something fun with their backs turned. All of my friends here are older than me and finished school before the recession. They have jobs and I don't have one. It has been so, so hard to find a job even though I've done everything I can think of to get one. My older friends try to understand, but they can't.

I speak fluent Spanish and I'm as organized as an ant colony. I know everyone, apply everywhere, and volunteer where I'm needed. It just doesn't seem to matter. Sometimes I feel like I'm drifting away from the earth, just falling off the face of it. To have so much purpose and noplace to go hurts.

Then I get a phone call from North saying, "Hey, Butthead, it's me," and a note from Alistair saying, "My queen to your bishop, ha ha" and I know that no matter what, I'll never really be left behind.