Today I met up with an old friend I haven’t seen in about 18 years since we both had toddlers, born within a few weeks and at the same birthing center, and our second children were on their way with a vengeance. Kim came up from Houston to move that second child, Leslie, into college at KU, and they were able to meet with Natalie, my second child, and me for lunch.
Kim and I got to know each other in birthing class, both of us both in awe of onesies and a little skeptical about anything we read on the beauty of natural childbirth (even though we each chose that path). We struggled up the stairs to her apartment, lugging our whale-bellies before the babies were born, and we confided in each other afterwards about how tricky it was to diaper the little wiggling newbies. When she moved with her family to Holland, pregnant with Leslie, I was sad but so grateful for her being one of my mommy playmates up until then.
No surprise that our second children, both 18 and ready to start college, both love all things Japanese, the thrill of travel and meeting people from other cultures, and the taste of sushi (which, oddly enough, we were able to all dine on together in the Kansas Union, now a spiffy remodel of the dungeon-like place it was back in the day when we were students). Talking with Kim, I revisited that lovely but true cliche about how time means nothing when it comes to the comforts of true friendship, even when the old blasts from the past are old enough to start college.