My Friends

We stopped the truck and jumped from it, full of all the youthful energy that we were supposed to have at this age.

Then we were running into the park, laughing, shouting, and full of an optimistic feeling that rarely seems to emerge in this day and age.

It was late – or at least dark out, the wind flew crazily in all directions, but we didn’t cover ourselves or hide, we road on it!

Finally we’d run and climbed, and scrambled so much that exhaustion inevitably overtook us.

Looking ahead I noticed one of my friends flop to the ground and ran to join in the quickly growing mass of people lying on the dry grass of the park.

We shifted about a bit before finally settling into a circle of sorts, all still grinning like idiots.

That’s when we decided – to sing.

Yes that’s right, right there in the middle of the park, in the middle of the night, we burst into an off key version of “The Last Saskatchewan Pirate.”

Louder at the chorus of course, but loud even during other parts – I felt insanely happy in a way that I hadn’t in more than a year.

And I realized, this is what it means to be friends.

I mean you have to be friends when you can all flop to the ground, totally sober and start singing at the top of your lungs without a care in the world.