Old friends

Today I went over to take something to an old friend.
We known each other for something like forty years. There isn’t much we haven’t done.
Both married, kids, divorced. You get the picture.
We sat down in a couple of years chairs and enjoyed the warmth of the sunshine of this beautiful mid November morning.
The conversation was lite.
But as we talked I saw us as we truly were. Two men looking at late middle age.
His back is worn out. He hands shake as he fumbles with his pack of cigarettes.
I’m no better off. My heart and body is still healing from last year’s attack, which pushed me over the edge into diebeates. My energy and most of my strength is gone.
But we sit and enjoy each other’s company like we have so many times in the past.
The horse we used to ride through the woods on to go camping are long over the rainbow bridge.
Our fishing poles gather more dust than fish these days. We did talk about going out and catching my a mess today. But I simply wasn’t up to it.
Our kids are grown and grandkids are coming around.
So now we sit and talk about grey beards and hair.
Much closer than brothers we sit, veterans of a life this our southern world.