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Nine years of stubborn later...

Tomorrow is an anniversary. It's the one I track on the profile of my journal: nine years ago tomorrow, I had a conversation with my best friend where he casually accepted the idea that once we both left school and moved apart, that we'd never hear from each other again, or at least never stay in touch regularly. He was a military brat, he said. This was a fact of life. I made a vow, then and there, that I would prove myself the exception to what he thought was the rule.

I didn't tell him that I was promising him that I would always stay in touch. I knew that he wouldn't believe me, and it would only lead to (another) argument.

Nine years later, we've been mistaken for dating, mistaken for married, been through all kinds of hell together, are a lot saner, a lot sillier, and get along a lot better. I finally told him, I think last year. There have been times when I've been tempted to just walk away -- we're both human, and I don't deal with conflict at all well -- but I care about him, and I promised, and somewhere underneath all the sarcastic bastard, he enjoys my company as well. I'm here, and he's there, and despite all the things that could have gone wrong, we're still friends. Never going to say goodbye.

Crossposted. comment count unavailable comments.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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