I maybe should have taken their picture when they were ready

I try to recall the last time I had seen Keilaina in person. There was a time that she wanted me to visit her at her mother's house, but there was too significant a snowstorm to attempt the six miles. I regretted it and hated myself for not trying -- not realizing how few of these encounters would be in my future -- but knowing that it was likely for the best that I not get stranded in the middle. She and Dan moved to Brooklyn, and there was talk of visiting her there, but the idea of trains and subways was too heady, so I didn't. And they were in Buffalo for a while, but I have difficulty placing that in their chronology. Did it come before Brooklyn? No, after. It had to be after, then they New York left from there. But I couldn't swear to it.

I decide that the last time was when we went to Eggbert with their children. Amber and I were still freshly minted. Kei had two children then, the eldest in a leg brace (his robot leg, Dan called it). It may have been the only time they met Amber, though we invited them to our wedding. They could not come because they were moving to Oregon, where they stayed. When the California wildfires turned their skies apocalyptic orange for days, Dan posted pictures, and I worried for their safety.

So, in the end, fewer than nine years, though not by much.

But she is here now, in my hometown of Beacon, having tagged along with Dan on a business trip. They brought their brood with them, all four children. (I told Amber that I thought there were four, but there might have been five. Forgetting how many children a friend has does seem rude.) Beacon was not their destination, but rather New York City -- a far more sensible place to be given that Dan does something technical. She has family in the area, so this digression from the trip was nothing too extreme. It wasn't specifically to my benefit, but I was honored that she thought to mention it to me. (I would have been startled and sad if she had neglected to send a message.)

Given the distance between us, chronologically and physically, I could hardly refuse. I have spent the greater part of a decade hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from her. We have been parted longer than we had been together. We have messaged intermittently since, Kei remembering me on my birthday, but that has been the extent of it. We have not called, but who calls anyone these days if they can help it? Yet, I have never stopped loving her. Most people from that point in my past are nothing but pictures on social media. Something about Kei has made it that I have never felt that I have stopped knowing her. I respect and admire her. As for Dan, though I cannot claim as close a friendship, I do like him. He was immediately open to me, and it disarmed me. He was among my exemplars of healthy masculinity.

I expect no real difference in the friendship, seeing her again, though I am a far better man than when she saw me last. I hope she and Dan could say the same, as they were never given to being static. Two hours are so little for catching up, but they have no more to offer in their tight schedule.

I thought not long ago of those people who I could not expect to see again in this life. While I was revising it for those I would wish to, Keilaina topped the list, so her text was a blessing. (And it is a joy too that I will not have to negotiate a way to the city for this reunion; I love Keilaina, but I would be a trudge and, now that she is working full time for the summer, it might not be one to which I could in good conscience subject Amber.)

Things in New York are too crowded and rushed, and she has packed too much into what hours she has, so Keilaina must postpone our meeting a few half hours. She is meeting friends for dinner at six, and we are not invited. I do not see a reason to fault her this.

Amber and I wander Beacon. I am borderline obnoxiously overfriendly to people in stores. Being able to see strangers is still novel.

We pop into Notions-N-Potions, where I look at the merchandise only long enough that I work up the courage to reintroduce myself to Cheryl, the proprietress, with whom I attended circles before moving to Red Hook. She faintly recalls me -- "Didn't you do something with books?" -- and then asks me what has been going on. I tell her of my facility closure. She asks me what windows have opened, what good things have come into my life because of this. I mention my writing for Grunge. She says, "There you go," but I may not have convinced Cheryl that this is the right window.

Sitting in Bank Square Coffeehouse, sharing a strawberry mango smoothie, writing this with my favorite fountain pen is closer to the life I feel I ought to have been leading this past year and a half. That I am waiting for my oldest friend here is more than a cherry on that sundae.

(She is, indeed, my oldest friend. I met her during my sophomore year of college. Anyone I knew in high school is no longer this caliber of friend. Melissa, the only other contender, made the fool mistake of dying on me and our friendship struggled under her addictions.)

Kei and Dan arrive in a massive gray van, more than they might need, but better to be comfortable. They ask if we have eaten and offer us leftover pizza, which Amber and I decline.

Our catching up does feel rushed and normal, as though we had only been parted a few weeks at most. When Dan hears of my articles, we digress into talking about unsolved mysteries and utopian fiction.

Dan switched jobs recently to one that he can do primarily online. One day, it occurred to him that this means that he could technically do it anywhere with an internet connection, so why stay rooted in Oregon? As such, they planned a trip that would take their family around American and would take a solid month.

The children sit at the table beside us, playing on various screens. They are exhausted by the last few days and possibly the trip entirely, but it is an experience they may be glad to have had when they are a little older. The eldest one seems more interested in his parents. The rest ignore us (except for when I make the youngest cry by telling him no when he is playing with water -- it's hard to turn off automatic teacher mode in the presence of anyone under fifteen).

I see much of Keilaina and Dan in their children and begin to see Keilaina's mother in her. It has been so long. I wonder how different I look to them in person rather than the cultivated selfies on social media.

The hour elapses too quickly. We speak of nothing profound, but I am not sure these sorts of reunions lend themselves to depth. Give us a sky of twinkling stars and a porch, then we'll reflect on age and existence.

They say that they will try to come back to New York more often in the future, so I hug them and trust that it will not take another decade for the next.

Soon in Xenology: A new job.

last watched: Cells at Work: Code Black
reading: Liber Null and Psychonaut