Happy Birthday to me.

I met a wonderful friend in high school.  Tom is an enthusiast.  He loves his art passionately and practically.  He's a metalsmith.  I lost track of him when after Robyn and I got together.  The last time I saw him, he and his wife Julie and our friend Mike came over to my folks house when we were visiting.  There had been a parade of folks coming to meet the new fiancee and Robyn was tired and bitchy.  She came down and said hello but made it plain that she was done visiting and was going to bed.

Robyn didn't really know that I would much rather she had done this with some of the other ninety folks who had trouped through, that these were some of my best people.  It was an awkward night and afterward nobody called anyone to talk about it, the way we grown ups would do now.

We lost track.

When Dad died, Mom circulated comparatively well and even dated a little.  One of the guys who came calling was Tom's dad, Norval.  He was always in pretty good shape, so I suppose he wasn't bad to look at.  It turns out Tom's mother died of ALS, so these two had some things to talk about.  Tom and I have never had the chance to talk about these things.

Yesterday, Tom found me, through the BWR website.  We exchanged numbers and emails quickly because we're both rushing around.

I think we're old enough now not to lose these numbers again.