She took a very early train to town on Monday to have breakfast with an old friend, and stayed late in town tonight to have dinner and see a show with another friend. And I couldn’t be more delighted.
We both work long hours, and she has a long commute. She takes breakfast and lunch to the office nearly every workday; I often do, too, and on my late nights I’ll at least take something as a between-rehearsals snack. We see each other first thing in the morning and in the late evening, and on some parts of the weekend. That’s about it. There isn’t that much time together.
But there’s also not all that much time for our friends. Even those who are our friends were, just as likely, her friends or my friends before they knew us as us. Friends deserve time.
We don’t have to enjoy spending time with the same people–though we mostly do. In the same way, we don’t have to enjoy all the same foods. It’s perfectly okay for her to have a burger if I want a piece of fish. It’s perfectly okay for me to want a chicken sandwich when she’s craving macaroni and cheese. I love bitter greens. She could eat rice at every meal. Most of the time we agree on a menu, or meet in the middle, but it doesn’t have to be that way. That’s why there are restaurants. And lots of pots and pans in our kitchen.
While she’s been out with her friend, I haven’t been lonesome. I stopped at home and ate the leftovers from my dinner Wednesday night (a seafood dish she wouldn’t have enjoyed), then I went to the theatre, too. I saw a school musical starring the son of one of my friends. In fact, it was the invitation to that show that occasioned her evening: it’s a show she really dislikes. (Just like friends and foods, we don’t have to like the same plays.)
The show I saw ended earlier than hers, so I had time to stop at the market after, and spend some time at home with the cats before going to meet her train. We’ll share the stories of our days and our evenings.
Maybe over breakfast or lunch.