Time Travel

Getting off the plane in Alice Springs was like stepping back in time.  There was no jetway. We descended a set of stairs pulled close to the rear door of the plane, as in the early days of air travel.

We walked across a hot windy tarmac towards the terminal building.  Inside, I tried not to look too obvious as I searched faces for my childhood friend, Kara. She spotted me first and in a moment we were embracing.

Years and years, almost forty of them, melted away.  My first friend, my neighbor, my walking-to-school mate was here in the middle of Australia and at the airport to meet us.

At her home in town Kara and I took turns dusting off memories for comparison.  It’s strange how, for both of us, different moments have stuck and others have faded away.

She remembered that on the French Club bus ride to Montreal she accidentally gave me a black eye.  I remembered the trip and the bus – but not the injury.

We both remembered her sno-cone machine and the maple syrup that we’d pour over the top of the crushed ice, the first cold delicious bites giving way quickly to too much sweetness.

When we were teenagers, we’d used different maps to make our way through the emotional maze of high school. Now, as adults, we found ourselves in places that literally could not be further apart.

But the years and miles between us collapsed easily as we sat in the same room again piecing the memories together.

In hours of conversation, I was reminded how elusive memories can be.  The life we remember living can look very different from another’s perspective.

Sometimes, if you are lucky, a good friend who knew you well can bring clarity, perspective – and even forgiveness – to your life.

In the center of a far-off continent with Kara, laughing over shared times from the 1960s and 70s: It was a trip I’ll never forget.