It occurs to me as I head off to see my old friend, that we have known each other for forty years now.

Forty years.

Four decades.

There is nobody on the job forty or over. I have had at least two lives while they are all still on their first.

Forty years is a lot of being known and being seen. You can take it for granted but settling into think about how long it is will be unsettling.

Forty years and you’re not even recognizable as the people you were but your lives are still…

Wisteria.

Same roots.

Same DNA, if perhaps damaged. (Chuckle or roll your eyes here.)

Different than you were but almost like one entity now.

Forty years.