Friends from the past, whom you haven’t met in a while are time and memory capsules. They save snapshots from your past, and in conversation bring these up making you think, “Oh, so I was like that then,” and more importantly, adding perspective to your life.
My life in the present looks strange, seen
With the eyes of the person I’d been —
Eyes I was presented by a friend.
I watch with interest
as the old me is put to rest
and my past comes to an end
I have a few friends, though, who will always remain the same in my mind’s eye, regardless of what happens when I meet them, as that tends to “update” mental images, sometimes partially breaking old impressions. I still remember things they said and did – specific instances – disconnected – but coming together to create them, when I think of them.
I miss my old friends – I miss being able to spend time with them. But now I have something to look forward to when I meet old friends, I’ll get to meet myself as I was in the past.
The above sounds very narcissistic, but I did not mean it to be. I just wanted to write down why it is such a pleasure to meet old friends, is all.