Memories of friends will last a lifetime

I had been sitting on the beach for hours, reading, when my eyes got tired. I put down my book, took off my reading glasses, stretched my arms and legs and looked around.

It was a fair day, not too warm but not as chilly as it could have been on the Oregon coast. It was pleasant and there were a lot of people – children flying kites, couples stretched out on blankets, and beachcombers stooped and strolling, on the beach near me.

It took a few seconds to notice the woman sitting in a folding chair at the edge of the rocks. Something about her was very familiar, and I studied her from behind my sunglasses trying to get a fix on who she might be.

She was tall with below-shoulder length hair that was pulled loosely into a band at the nape of her neck. She was wrapped in a roomy windbreaker and a floppy hat. One long leg was crossed over the other and she was gazing at the horizon through a pair of binoculars. Periodically, she would bring the glasses down so she could record something into a small notebook.

Almost everything about her – the shape of her face, the way her hair curled, the deliberate, graceful, way she moved, even the clothing she was wearing – reminded me of my old friend, Sara.

When she was a young, Sara was a dancer, and that early training is still evident in the elegant way she carries herself.

Now she is a writer and editor. A fair redhead, she hides from the sun, often wearing hats and layers of clothing to avoid a burn. My friend Sara is a birdwatcher. I could easily imagine her settled into a chair on a rocky strip of the shore watching, and making notes about, the birds.

I could tell the woman on the beach was aware of my gaze. Finally, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I got up and walked over to her.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “But you’re not Sara are you?”

She smiled politely, and shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I’m not.”

“I knew you weren’t but I still had to make sure.”

Slightly embarrassed, I walked back to my chair and picked up my book and she went back to her bird watching. But, I didn’t read.

Instead, I thought about Sara, and other old friends I never see anymore. People who live busy lives in places scattered across the country; across the world.

Time and circumstance keep us moving, and sometimes take us far away from those we know and love. We’re held by the same gravity to the same small planet, but it feels as though there is a universe between us.

The woman on the beach wasn’t my old friend, just a woman who looked very much like her. But, I’m glad I went over to speak. Sometimes, when we least expect it, people pop up in the strangest places. Just like memories.

I put my book down and picked up my pencil to write a letter to an old friend.