Old Flames

Long Ago And Oh So Far Away

Last year, an old friend/flame telephoned. We were together 20 years ago and had always kept in touch. I'd helped him through some tough times - talked him into staying put when he was ready to throw in the towel both at work and at home. He'd talked me through many of my own crises. So when he 'phoned and asked if I would do some work for him I panicked. I'd put off meeting him for 10 years - even though he was always saying he'd love to come down and take me out to lunch.

But I needed the work because I needed the money, so reluctantly I agreed to meet up. We scheduled it in for a month's time and the next day I started a diet.

A few days before we were due to meet, I changed hairdressers for the first time in years. I threw caution to the wind and daringly asked for a shorter, younger style and some brave hi-lights. I went out and bought a cream canvas bag like the one I'd seen my 18 year old niece with. And a short brown fitted puffa jacket like my 16 year old niece wears. When the day came to meet I'd lost a stone. Still a stone overweight, I wondered if he'd notice. I worried about the wrinkles, the laughter lines and the tired eyes.

When he got out of his car at the Restaurant we both laughed. Older (and probably not much wiser), it was a great lunch. I came away remembering who I was - who I am. He told me he'd felt the same. We meandered a little down memory lane. I'd taken some photos along of 20 years before - "isn't age a terrible thing" he'd said, as he looked at his once trim figure (that was now portly) and his thick dark hair (now noticeably thinner and grey). Yet all I saw was that he had the same twinkle in his eyes and the same great laugh. And he still made me laugh out loud.

Why is it that time does this to us? Makes us feel world-weary? We have lovely homes, wonderful children, (hopefully) enjoyable careers. Yet we tend to forget who we are. We get forgotten in our role as Mother/Father, Breadwinner/Homemaker. We can end up feeling like an organiser with no time for ourselves. And in all the rush, our very essence gets lost. Worst of all, we forget the importance of laughter.

Sometimes it can take a person from our past to bring us back to ourselves. Today I've got a spring in my step. It's as if he's opened my eyes. I've seen the girl of 20 years ago because an old friend found me there, lurking in the shadows of myself. Where I had seen and felt my age, he had seen my essence.

When he left he said he felt chilled and happy. He feels better about things at home. In seeing the 'me' of 20 years ago he also rediscovered the 'him' of the same time. He found the boyish enthusiasm for life and pleasure, before the financial responsibilities and children came along bringing with them unavoidable pressures.

Age, after all, is just that. It is just a number, yet we can all too easily allow it to become a state of mind. So scratch beneath the surface and I bet you're there - the fun you, the young you. I hope you have the courage to jump out and make the most of your day.

Life is short - let's wear our party pants.