Old friends sat on their park bench like bookends…

Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy.

I was always sad that my STBX and a good friend had a falling out.  Although I never shared this with my STBX because the song was beyond his generation, I would painfully think of the above Simon and Garfunkel lyrics from Old Friends. My STBX and, I’ll call him A,  became friends when they started working together while my STBX was going through his (first) divorce, and they remained friends when A went through a couple of divorces, too. They both enjoyed jeeps and fishing. They were buddies.

Then A dropped out of the universe. A few of my siblings had worked with him, too. One of my sisters had a party with pictures of A posted all over the place with the caption “Have you seen this man?” I remember one being next to the toilet paper roll, which pretty much sums up my family’s sense of humor.

A few years later, he called some of his friends. He eventually moved back near us. My STBX and he rekindled their friendship, and we became friends with his new wife, too. We were there for them when she tragically lost her son, and they both were kind to our daughter.

Then, for the most ridiculous reason, they stopped being friends with us. I had gotten one of those stupid forwards and, with my STBX’s prodding, read it to A. It was just to tease him with an anti-Bush joke. He took it extremely personally, and they were mad and severed the friendship. The joke wasn’t even funny!

But after my STBX moved out but was still talking to me, he told me that they’re friends again.

Next year, when my STBX will be very strange to be 70 (A is already past that), he can sit on a bench with his buddy. I’m sincerely glad for both of them. (And that’s not sarcastic. When their friendship was broken it really bothered me.)

But I don’t know why I always seem to be wandering around the park.

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