Connective Tissue

 My wife and I attended the graduation party for the youngest son of our friends. Our friends who came into our lives when our own son was three years old. That was the beginning of an arrangement that found us sharing a childcare that would lead us to a co-op preschool that created an even larger village of children and parents that we grew to know and care for at different times and places. It was born out of convenience, but these friends became the friends of our son and the arrangement that began out of quiet necessity became a brotherhood of sorts. 

This was our son's first group of friends. Through elementary school, into middle school and high school, their paths crossed again and again. Sometimes out of that convenience mentioned earlier, but mostly out of the comfort of knowing someone all of their lives. 

That's where my wife and I landed this past Saturday night. The house full of guests milled about, introducing themselves and their affiliation to the graduate. I could honestly say that I had known this young man since before he was born. I could remember the ceremony we attended in another back yard that welcomed him into the world. His older brothers and our son played together while we passed the new baby around. 

Now this baby is heading out into the world to begin what he hopes is a career in journalism, even as my own career begins its final act. I was accutely aware of all the gatherings that we had enjoyed with this family, the birthdays and Halloweens and Christmases and yearly trips up to the snow. I could not count them all. 

Over the course of all those years, our connection bent and slipped. Once our kids began to forge their own relationships and paths, our social circles shifted. But that evening as we applauded yet another commencement, I was aware of our position in the Venn diagram of our collective lives. 

Right near the center. 

It felt good. It felt right.