Days to Remember

There was a time when I would stay up until dawn just to see the sun rise. When I would run in the snow without shoes on just to feel it between my toes. When I would swim at midnight, take leisurely baths at noon, spend eight hours browsing a book store on a rainy day.

It was the days of cocktail parties. Little black dresses, red wine, witty conversation (at least we thought it was witty). The nights of cheesecake, more wine, deep philosophical discussion in a grotto lit only by dripping candle sticks stuck in old bottles. Four hour dinners because time was our friend and we couldn't get enough of it. Sleep, we decided, was for the weak. Or for weekends when we could sleep until mid afternoon and then get up and do it all again if we wished.

It's good to be able to reach into the past and grasp those things. To have done them.

Priorities change. Needs change (like I need sleep these days. And I don't think daily slices of cheescake would be especially good for me either anymore). We* used to go out at 9 pm. Having drunk a bottle (large) of wine and eaten bread and cream cheese, we'd be sitting on the ferry from Dartmouth to Halifax reading our horoscopes as we set off to the local Irish pub.

I'd like to say it's still there, that Irish pub. But it isn't. Even if it hadn't changed, we have.

Not regretting anything here, you understand. I'm not sitting in a pool of sorrow wishing I could turn back time.

But it was good. And I remember. And sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could do it all again.

*We being the women I dedicate this post to. The ones who saw me through my early 20's. Always there. Always laughing with me. The men we hung out with changed - sometimes Navy friends, sometimes boyfriends, sometimes univeristy pals. But the women were the constant.

**Although Bob, Mark, Darren, Nick, Shawn, if you are reading this, for the many, many hours of conversation and smart-ass commentary, you rock too!