Coming of Age

I waited with my friends, the room charged with anticipation. Does he suspect? Will he be surprised? We pasted favorite memories in a large book, commemorating this special day. A Happy Birthday banner was hung in front of a long table adorned with food and chocolate cake. The room was filled with an array of people, friends, family and grandchildren, all gathered together for one common purpose. I chatted with my writing friends, some of whom I had not seen for ages. The conversations centered around our favorite topics, writing and books, with the occasional comment about quilts, canning and grandchildren mixed in. I heard his belly laughter coming from down the hallway. It was time. He rounded the corner and our jubilant HAPPY BIRTHDAY exclamation marks embraced him with full force. His surprised expression will forever be cemented in that hidden place, the space in my heart that never forgets, always appreciates, my treasure chest. As he greeted his guests and reached out for hugs, I knew that in this friend I had been richly blessed. A ruthless editor and critic of my book, he taught me to stay the course and truly appreciated my penchant for similes. His own book, a memoir still in progress, has given those lucky enough to be a part of, snapshots of his youth and authentic glimpses into a bygone era. This is what I have learned about friendship. When I witness someone cry with unabashed emotion and my own eyes well up in connection, I know  I have indeed experienced the richness of community, of friendship, of love. Today my friend, John is 90. He has truly come of age.