I wished yesterday - and every other day, but some more painfully than others - that there was a place, like in college or grade school, where I could go and most of my friends would be there. There isn't. My friends are everywhere, a point emphasized when I read a delightful blog post from a friend who just began a year studying in Syria. Good friends, off the top of my head, live in:
Syria, UAE, England/Switzerland, Palestine, California, New York, Washington D.C., Connecticut, Massachusetts, Kansas, Pennsylvania, Texas, Arizona
Perhaps I should feel lucky, because my friends are a bunch of exceptional people, the sort who save the world and then write about it in beautiful prose. As one friend and I recently discussed over lunch, our social networks come from the small pool of the cultured, over-educated and cosmopolitan. The world as peopled in my experience feels normal to me but is far from a norm. (My new pal in New London thinks I'm a catch, and I keep trying to explain that all my friends are like me, but even better.)
Perhaps I should feel lucky, but I miss my friends.