Growing up.

I had an old friend in town for a visit this weekend. My oldest friend, in fact. Known her since junior high. We had a lovely time taking in the local Conservatory and playing with the dajamou and eating too much. And throughout the weekend, we had some great chats. Overall, an A+ weekend.

The only drawback was me, and I hope I didn't actually make my mental blunder obvious to her or anyone else: I kept being surprised at how wise and mature she had become. Like my image of her was stuck at age 17, when she lived with my family for a year and we temporarily couldn't stand each other, and click! It's the present day, and she's instantly morphed into this grown-up woman I can really get along with and laugh with. She's smart, clever, witty...

In my defense, I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with her in the past 16 years since high school. But I'd like to think that I've changed and grown, so why can't I settle it in my head that she has too? I mean, cripes, she's the one who's remembered all these years to call now and then to check in. That right there should have been my clue that she's further along on the maturity scale than I thought, probably further than I am.

Anyway, it was still a lovely weekend, and now that she's just a $100 plane ticket away, hopefully we'll see more of one another. I know the dajamou will vote for it. She hasn't bonded to a new person that quickly since...um, ever. Well, maybe to me, at birth.

Maybe.