We don’t talk a lot. When he called this afternoon, i damn near fell out of my chair when i realized it was him.
He is tall, dark, handsome, quiet. i am…well, i ain’t any of that. From all of our experiences, life events, whatever, we appear to be almost polar opposites. He has lived in Lebanon, Tennessee all of his life. i have lived…well, certainly not in one place.
Oh, i could go on, but i’m guessing most folks would consider us different.
We don’t talk a lot because, i think, we pretty well like to leave other folks alone, don’t want to disturb them. We both know the other one is there if we need him.
Today in the course of two phone conversations, we talked for about a half-hour, maybe more.
It was like talking to myself in another dimension. Only to laugh at some of our misadventures growing up did we talk about the past. But on every subject that came up, i kept realizing he was thinking, THINKING, almost exactly what i was thinking.
Quite honestly, it made me feel…well, validated.
You see, he and i grew up together. i lived at his house almost as much as i did at my house. We did everything together until life took us in different directions. In my conversations with him, i get the impression he sort of wishes, some times anyway, he could have done the crazy stuff i have done. At the same time, i find myself wishing i had lived my life more like him.
i hope everyone has someone like him in their life. Not kin, just connected. Perhaps it was all of that growing up together. i don’t know.
But i do know when i talk to Henry Harding, it’s like peeling off the skin of unimportant things, connecting, recognizing living life with some sense of common sense, goodness, like the world and the people in it should be is what it all should be about.
i really can’t describe it adequately. He’s my friend. No, he’s a hell of a lot more than that. A soul brother? See, i can’t express it properly.
i just want him to know how good it makes me feel to connect, even when we aren’t connecting, just being us.
Thank you, Henry.