The finest of wines

There's nothing like an old friend.  The kind of friend you've known forever.  The kind you don't have to pretend with.  The kind of friend who just knows you.  And calls you on your bullshit when necessary.  I feel lucky to have a handful of such friends.

It's hard to imagine navigating life without them.  Throughout the years, drawing on one or another of their perspectives and insights as part of some kind of eclectic cosmic wisdom without which I would be lost.  It's true, we all see in the mirror dimly, but it helps to have a few kickass friends holding the mirror at just the right angle.

This morning I was thinking about someone I know who does not appear to have any old friends.  No one to be a shoulder for the tears.  No one to tell it like it is.  No one who knows her from way back.  I'm not sure why this is, because she is a lovely, sincere and earnest, totally likable, lovable person.   I wonder whether part of that is her choice.  She just hasn't claimed them. 

I wonder whether my old friends are aware that I have claimed them, placed them in special reserve, high on the shelf, the finest of wines.  I think they know who they are.  If they don't yet, they will soon.  I will tell them.  Cheers, my friends.