Sometimes contrast walks in.

Its name is an old friend with whom I used to whoop it up.

Its name is an old friend I may have hurt.

Its name is someone who doesn’t believe I could be different now.

My kids sleep in the tent surrounded by old warm coco cups now holding water and books.  Security blankets and special pillows.

As I watch the surprising and the usual, of kids popping their teeth out by chomping and pulling on a beach towel or ridiculous 26 color face paint all over soft peachy pink cheeks that receive kisses like nothing I have ever experienced, I wish I could also hang on to those friends of the past, and reconcile with those I may have hurt.

Because the things I did in my youth were wonderful and satisfying and sometimes I messed up and I might never want to go back there, but I do wish to hold on to the people who saw me in different places.

And when I see my friends from the past struggling in the present with the tragedies we didn’t know would come our way, and it hits hard and we grapple, I wish I could tell them straight to their heart so that they knew I meant it “I know you good,”

I wish all the cruft of pride or hurt that makes us brush off these friendships, because we can’t believe would just recede like a wave on the salty shore.

And we could just believe that someone loves us for all the good stuff inside of us.