a few days ago, i had lunch with someone from the distant early chapters of my life, someone i knew since i was 11 years old but rarely had much contact in between. i started by asking him a very simple question, which seemed to have confounded him; perhaps he was reading too much into it. does he know me at all? undoubtedly we have all changed over the years, and he does not know me now, but did he know me then? a strange question perhaps.

i tried to remember if i knew him then. faint memories fluttered by. guitar strumming melodies that i did not hear. long calls that lasted into the night. letters that have evaporated with time. laughters and voices. the cheekiest and brightest grin. i looked up from across the table and the grin was still there. those were the past but did i really know him? his principles, his values, his desires and his ideas? i shake my head a little, as if to clear up the cobwebs and dislodge memories tucked in some corner of the brain. i didn't know much of him, but i knew him. he was a nice guy. he is still a nice guy. someone with the correct values and principles, whatever they be. someone whom you can rely on and talk to. someone who is a friend.