Once upon a time I lived next to a boy named Greg (no, not that
Greg, another one...my life is replete with Gregs) and his two sisters and parents. Except he always wrote his name Gerg so that's what my family called him. He and his older sisters, along with my brother Matt, were my favorite people. We lived in two houses down a dirt lane in a small university town in Utah. We played in the snow, did lemonade stands, played "it's not nice to fool with Mother Nature" with blankets in the wind, went fishing, and all those other childhood things. I have a blurry picture of all of us hanging, cocoons in blankets, from my mom's rotating clothesline--a very downscale version of an amusement park ride:
Fast forward...oh, 30-something years.
I'm sitting with Gabi
having lunch while our kids play on the playground. (She was visiting New England and we arranged to get together. I can't believe I didn't ever blog about that; it was a highpoint of my April.)
Gabi mentions it reminds her of a time she met another one of her blogging friends last year.
A: Hmmm. Yeah. I used to...but I lost the link and it's been a while. I like her!
G: I met up with her at a park in Logan last summer when I was visiting Utah. She's not from there and she lives in Texas but her husband grew up in Logan. Aren't you from Logan?
A: Yeah. I wonder who her husband is (idly thinking there's no way I know him).
G: I can't remember his name but her last name is ...T@11m@dge
A: You're kidding! Is his name Greg?
A: I do know him! Gerg! He was one of my favorite childhood friends!
Isn't life grand?
(Hi Greg and Rochelle!)