I AM ME. YOU ARE YOU

Sitting here together, now aged eighty-two, remembering when we first met with our mums at the explorative age of five. 

You offered me an orange, a gift, then quite rare from the bottom of the garden stair.

“Would you like to come out to play?” you asked. 

I was longing to say yes, but I had the most irritating spots upon my chest.

Dad said, “Sorry, girls; not just yet,” and your face fell, mine as well. “There will be plenty of time for play and friendship when those itchy spots have faded away.”

We did not know—how could we?—that we would be sitting here, still the best of friends at the grand old age of eighty-two, with years and years of stories to tell of sad goodbyes and joyful hellos, as we followed each other around the world.

You were the quiet bookworm, well educated. 

I was the adventurer and very creative. 

It was a combination of talents that served us well as years slipped by. 

Marriage for a time kept us apart, until your children appeared and captured my heart. 

Now empty-nested, we sit reminiscing with tears and laughs, struggling to recall the names of people we met a long time ago.

Here we are: you are you and I am me, with limbs creaky, a few replaced, too. 

Contemplating the memories of the vanishing world we once loved and knew.

Preparing for the approaching, emerging world, all brashly unfamiliar to us, it is true.

As we hug each other as we prepare to say farewell, thankful we lived when we did.

Time now to hand over to the young, and hope strong friendships like ours will help carry them through.

I am me and you are you, so thankful for our friendship, still not at an end.

You are and always have been a most remarkable, true and loving friend.

2025 ©️ Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo by Harli Marten on Unsplash