old times

it is a visit that almost never was, as HOM and i fly in on five separate flights to meet again at the airport, in a county caught in a snow storm. we catch up with old friends over warm meals while the winds whip and the sleet falls. the faces are the same the names come back the stories continue unbroken and the challenges remain. uncle so-and-so had cancer last year, but he is well now by God's grace, they tell us. old mama so-and-so died last year. the young ones are graduating college this year! so-and-so is going to medical school! little so-and-so is getting married. 

we visit favorite haunts from before and eat at miyagi again. the cinnamon crunch bagel from panera bread calls my name as usual. we buy boxes of kosher salt because we can. the neighborhood street names come back effortlessly. never mind the gps, i tell HOM. i'm your gps.

it is a visit to the place of my flames and floods. the memories are not all untarnished. old anxieties fears and agonies remind me that they have lived side by side with friendships fellowship and comfort. it is a visit to teach me that the memory of pain moves me, but not with the same paralyzing fearsomeness as the pain itself. i learn that pain is in God's hands as much as joy and happiness. i pray i may not fear this.

it is a good visit, in the sense of a good and perfect gift.