Saving a seat for Loo.

Back in high school, my oldest friend and I had a few classes together, in which we would pass copious notes. They were usually of the nerdy variety - How far did you get in X book? Can you save a seat for me at lunch? Are you going to orchestra today? We were excused from the more popular crowd rather swiftly when we transferred from a small private school to a mid-sized public school. Thankfully, we were used to each other's company at that point, and we definitely didn't notice how odd we seemed in our plaid (oh, yes) pants and obsession with Robert Frost.

In any case, we were terrified that teachers would find these oh-so-secret notes, so we started signing off with alternate names - Kamaria and Praline (both with the nerdiest significance that I can't even discuss). Years down the road, we're still Kam and Lina Loo (Loo for short, obviously). 

And that's the way it's always been with me and Loo. We get older and change our addresses and hairstyles and dreams and still, there we are. Kam and Loo, still slightly obsessed with dead poets and maybe a little unaware of how odd we are. 

Loo came to visit last night and we went out to dinner with another dear friend who lives here in the city. The three of us are like puzzle pieces when we're together - three parts to a loud, fast-talking whole. I'm not sure that getting older means growing out of things, just moving them around to make space for the rivers of experience to flow through. But gosh, how I'd like to give larger pieces of time real estate to these friends. 

These visits and weekly phone calls are so important to me, and I hope she knows it. There's always a place here for my lovely, oldest friends.