Optimism
friends
walking
Today I got together with Clara, Parker, and Lauren, three old friends who were also once my students. Parker and Clara were in my very first class at Gaviota's Vista de las Cruces School eighteen...or maybe nineteen?...years ago; Lauren came the following year.
I guess even back then we recognized something in each other, or shared some sort of quirky sensibility. We clicked, became friends apart from school, and stayed in touch. It's a connection that's endured. I've written in this blog before about how I've watched them grow over the years into the remarkable young adults that they are, and how astonished and delighted I am by the continuity of our bond.
Parker is leaving for Boston next week to enter a graduate program, so this particular reunion was a kind of fare-thee-well celebration for him. Despite the heat, we decided to hike up to the sandstone rock formation on the ridge above Cuarta Canyon, a perfect place for a bit of ceremony and camaraderie. I carried a bottle of sparkling pomegranate cider in my backpack along with four plastic champagne glasses.
We walked along talking about everything from childhood beliefs about Santa Claus (Clara also filled us in on St. Nick's sinister assistant, Black Peter...who knew?) to the immense value of flexibility in work situations. (It apparently outweighs a fat paycheck.) We reminisced about some far-from-ordinary middle school adventures (like a road trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras...yes, it strains credibility, but it happened, and Clara and Parker were part of it) and shared Clara's amazement that her own son is about to start kindergarten.
We mused about changes in aspirations and priorities wrought by new economic realities, and the ongoing process of figuring out what matters and how to find a balance.
"We're optimistic," declared Lauren. "Isn't that characteristic of young people? Life hasn't really kicked us around that much yet, so we're still optimistic."
Parker pulled out his pocket knife to open the bottle. ("And that's the first of many things I learned from Parker," said Lauren. "Always carry a pocket knife.")
Then we clinked our glasses and saluted our friendship and journeys about to begin.
Afterwards we went down to the beach, and I stood at the shore while Clara, Parker, and Lauren went in the water. I watched them floating and bobbing about, three good friends on a summer afternoon.
Sometimes I could hear their voices in the distance, the words unclear but interspersed with laughter, and it gave me immense joy just to be there watching.
As for me, I'm optimistic. I may be old, kicked around a bit, and frayed at the edges, but yes, I remain an optimist.
Days like this one help.