Maybe you can go home again.

When I went back to Seattle for an appointment recently, I decided to stay a couple of days and see some friends. Having lived in Seattle for almost 40 years, I decided to take the waterfront driving from downtown to Ballard where I had lived. So I turned north at the Colman ferry dock and started driving along the waterfront. To my surprise, the road curved up towards Pike Place Market and a park area appeared to the left along the shoreline. I had known a big project was underway, but I hadn’t expected the changes to be this significant. Spending the last four years in Cannon Beach Oregon, less than 150 miles away, had caused me to miss a lot. Some businesses were gone, and new ones had popped up, and single-family houses were gone replaced by condos and townhomes. The vibe was still quieter than before covid, and it was clear that many were still working remotely.

But after the trip to Ballard, I returned downtown and went to a Mariner game with friends. I had met some of these friends 30-40 years ago, and some more recently. But as soon as I saw them, it was as if we had not missed a beat. The conversations quickly returned to the comfort level we had always had, whether working together, running together, or walking our dogs together. The majority were people I had worked with or met while working as a lawyer. Perhaps the shared stresses and difficulties encountered by lawyers make them more likely to bond. The hair was thinner, and the movements slower and less assured. But the feelings were the same. A good friend is someone you re-connect with easily and quickly, no matter how long it has been since you’ve seen them. And I was lucky, as I still had a lot of good friends in Seattle.

After the trip as I drove down to my new home, I realized that a 4-hour drive is a barrier to connecting with people, but not an insurmountable one. Thanks to Al Gore inventing the internet, it is easier than it ever was to stay in touch. And the important thing about Seattle wasn’t the buildings, or the places we used to gather that are no more, but the comfortable feeling among friends that returned as soon as they walked into the room. That was the important thing, and what I remembered the most about my trip.

Part of my problem as a writer is that I have nothing particularly profound to say, especially compared to real poets. So I sometimes (often?) resort to quoting song lyrics. In No Woman, No Cry, Bob Marley sang: “Good friends we’ve had, good friends we’ve lost- along the way. In this brave future, you can’t forget your past, so dry your tears I say.” Pick up the phone, call someone. Or send an email or a text. Maybe the person with an illness you haven’t reached out to in a while. It might make a difference to them-but it will almost certainly make a difference to you.