Return Of An Old Friend

Jennifer may very well be back in my life. It's difficult to tell with her, because she so often holds people at a distance.

It would not be entirely accurate to say that she has been absent from my life for the past year. We had stopped seeing each other; we had almost no contact, but she was still everywhere. Everything made me think of her.

We felt a connection before we met, I think. I remember I brought flowers for our first date. She gave me two books she said would change how I view fatherhood: "Odd Girl Out" by Rachel Simmons and "The Wonder of Girls" by Michael Gurian. (She was right. They also changed how I view manhood.)

That's Jen: stunningly compassionate and sensitive, able to read a person's thoughts from the way they breathe.

I am more self-confident in her presence than at any other time; I am also terrified of myself, of her, and of what I could be when she's around. Terrified of good things, I should add. She challenges me to grow, to reevaluate who I am, what I stand for, what I care about. Maybe that's what scares me: the possibility that she'll show me I've been wrong to be comfortable in some ways. She's certainly taught me I was wrong about some things I was uncomfortable with. It's for these reasons (and more) that I treasure our friendship.

I remember my first glimpse of her: She wore a blue and black striped top with a long black skirt. She had tied a black satin ribbon around her neck, in a bow. She smiled at me and for a minute, I could only speak in monosyllables: "Uh. Hi. Wow. Yeah. Wow. Hi."

I still tend to think in monosyllables when I look at her.

Over dinner at the bar, she got a little misty-eyed and said she has just about resigned herself to becoming an old cat lady in a muumuu. I wanted to say, "Not if I have anything to say about it," but I didn't.

I know that I can leave a great deal unsaid when I am with her. She more or less knows what I'm going to say before I say it, anyway. And she says I "get" her.

So, Jennifer may very well be back in my life, even though she never really left.

I sure hope so.