A friend and I hiked in the Olympic National Forest this weekend. I say, "a friend," by which I mean one of my closest and dearest. We were in Quileute to search for the One Square Inch of Silence plaque in the Hoh Rain Forest, and, more importantly, to celebrate his 33rd sober anniversary. We met when I came in to treatment in January, 1986, where he'd gone with 4 months sobriety under his belt. He left a week after I arrived, one of those chance encounters that has ended up being one of the sustaining relationships in my recovery, and in my life.

Somewhat in jest, as we made our way back to the Seattle Ferry early Sunday morning, he asked, "How did we stay friends all these years?" I think a lot of it has to do with being "litter mates." We share a "coming-to" story, were taught similar lessons in treatment, and we've both stayed on the path of 12 Step recovery. We lived together for a time, cementing our new friendship, along with another treatment alumni, Ruth. He was 21, just a kid, though a kid who'd seen more than his share of alcoholic drama. I was 31, coming out of the meth fog, and Ruth was 60, my mom's age, who's drinking increased when one of her sons was killed in a car accident at Christmas time. Together, we traveled up and down the I-5 corridor, hitting meetings, going to dances and potlucks, and starting each day with our meditation books and the coffee I'd learned to drink in treatment.

We know each other's families, so that when my best friend talks about his grandmother, I remember sitting at her kitchen table in Montana, eating the bacon and eggs she'd fried up. He remembers my mother's laugh. He knows my ex's and I know his. We've cried together over heartbreak, laughed and mourned together, and everything in between.

I'm blessed to have several dear friends who fit this category of shared history, where we can talk every so often and it feels like just yesterday. And, this has been a summer of reunion, from the official 8th grade event, to music in the parks or hikes with friends I don't see so often anymore. Staying connected seems to take more of an effort these days. Life gets complicated, or so we tell ourselves. Where we were once a roaming band of singles, most are now familied-up with grand kids and nieces and nephews, spouses, step kids, in-laws, and aging parents vying for attention. Our meeting habits have changed - no longer do we insist on a meeting a day, with fellowship before and after. We are reaping the benefits of long term recovery, one day at a time. And, with a bit of  "been there, done that" that comes with aging, there is no longer the need to attend every opening, see every movie, hear every band. I joke that I love making plans, and I love when they get cancelled. Home is definitely where my heart is, along with my books, our cats, and various projects. A cozy night with my dear husband wins out, nearly every time.

We never did find the One Square Inch of Silence, though not for want of trying as we splashed up and down the undulating Hoh River Trail in the pouring rain. It was truly a weekend of "the journey, not the destination." Much like true friendship, which is a journey of intent, commitment, and picking up the phone.

Who do you connect with regularly? Who do you want to reach out to? Where is the journey taking you this week?