There is no place like home, no place like home, no place...

April is a cruel month, cold and wet one minute, warm and dry the next.

April also represents spring breaks when Brian would come up to Oregon and spend a few days around Easter, as he and his dog would venture out on the lake and spend hours throwing and fetching balls. This time, in 2011, the lake was full of reeds, and young Butters had a difficult time paddling back to the dock after fetching the ball Brian would toss out. At one point, on this very occasion, Brian had to intervene and pull Butters out of the lake as the reeds prevented her from finishing the run successfully.

But the lake was warmer and safer than the ocean. I worried about having Butters swim in the ocean, with its crashing waves and rip currents. Butters, though, was indomitable, even at a very young age enjoying any type of water, growing stronger and more determined with each stroke.

April is Brian's birthday, and it has come to represent his life, his energy, his curious spirit throughout the month. And since he visited us often here in Oregon, we see him around every step, every corner.

Every time we take a beach walk, we can point to a spot and reminisce.

Fears are Tangible

Here we are, the white-haired bunch, spending an August afternoon parked in our easy chairs, sun hats and comfortable clothes, snacks, extra covering in case the wind picks up, ready to listen to young people entertain us with their beautiful sounds.

Old people love young people.

Time stops for us when we see a fourteen/sixteen year old collecting his wits and budding skills to produce a sound in a public setting. This audience is all smiles; with not a bit of malice or criticism toward them. Why, some are reminiscing about their own experience standing in front of an audience of strangers playing together in a band for the first time. The body language is mostly the same, stiff, hesitant, swaggering or downright trembling with fear. I'm guessing the young man on the cell phone while his colleague is making announcements is the least fearful of this audience.

We have learned to recognize most of our fears in our recurring dreams, in the underlined and repeated conversations with each other, in the packages of supplies we stock up just in case.

Guessing the fear in the faces of these young people is easy enough. At their age, I recall few clear paths out of fear, except to listen to adults and practice. Obedience and shame worked wonders at keeping fear at bay.

All those old times...

I've always felt that my life was fluid, not because of anything I did or wished, but just how circumstances worked in my life, allowed me to move across continents, grow in different settings and  attract different people who could and became friends for a while.

However, I do miss all those childhood friends and relatives left behind when I moved to America. I tried to stay in touch for a while; but after a few years, it was hard to talk about things we no longer shared.

Lately, this idea that I've not maintained life-long friends bothers me. Something is lacking when your closest friend is also your spouse. Oh, I don't mean there is anything wrong with it. But, your history together may not include all those occasions in childhood that formed the way you grew up.

I remember how it felt the first few months in a new country, trying to start or respond to an inquiry from someone in a language I could hardly understand, feeling that people avoided you on purpose, feeling you were making all the right moves and yet...
Such experiences cannot be shared with a spouse who didn't know you then; worse, never had to live in a foreign country and has no idea how hard it is to communicate in a new language.

We can't talk much about our childhood,  those pesky neighbors, those difficult classes in high school. Not having a life-long friend limits your conversations to politics, weather, and current events.

Yet, those stories about old times get better and better when they are retold to a trusted old friend.