Let's Keep In Touch

The parson received the text about five in the afternoon. Adam Trawick, an old, old friend updated him on his approach to the parson's town.

The parson and Adam had been the best of friends during college. Life had taken them in different directions. It was by chance they bumped into each other at a hospital in the Really, Really Big City. They'd promised to contact each other soon. Adam had followed through.

Adam had been meeting with an architect. Adam was the chairperson of the building committee at his church. They were planning on building a new sanctuary. It was going to be a very involved project. The church, the parson thought, was lucky to have Adam at the helm. Returning home from the meeting
Adam was passing through the parson's town.

The parson headed toward the coffee emporium. The two arrived at almost the same time. Inside the beverages were ordered. They took a sat at a table in the corner. The two began to catch up on old times, back when the parson and Adam had no cares and no woes, back when getting through Dr. Beckman's statistics class was the major challenge to an otherwise perfect existence, back when they were making plans to dazzle the world with their combined onslaught following graduation.

They both exchanged stories of children and grandchildren, of career paths followed and changed, of wives and lovers, and, even at their age, plans for the future.

Both now joked with each other over how their expectations had bumped against reality, how the conflict had tempered their ambition and sculpted them to find meaning in careers back then totally unexpected. And now they sat in the coffee shop reflecting on the unforeseen paths they'd taken.

“Remember, Vicki?” asked Adam.

“I'll never forget Vicki,” the parson smiled.

“Ever hear from her after graduation?”

“Never,” said the parson.

“Franklin Hodges, I wonder what became of him?”

“He's another one who vanished after school.”

“Strange, how people turn corners in life and just don't look back,” Adam reflected.

“I know what you mean,” the parson replied.

“How about Jeff Stewman?”

“Jeff came through town when I was in graduate school. We shared a pizza but I haven't heard from him since.”

“That is surprising. You guys were really close back in those days.”

“You know, that day he came through town. I remember we exchanged phone numbers and promised we'd keep in touch. He never called, and I don't know where his phone number is.”

Their conversation continued until night began to slowly close the door to the sky. Adam said he needed to head down the road. The parson acknowledged he had a few things to attend to. The rose, headed out to door to their respective cars, shook hands an.d hugged.

“You know, Adam,” the parson remarked. “Considering we're in our seventies, we probably shouldn't wait another twenty years to get in touch.”