friends

Here’s what my friends do on Sunday mornings when they roost at my house.

I believe at one point during the morning I blurted out, "We bought bigger and better couches, and here we are, piled up in the far smaller room on the far smaller couches.  This makes no sense to me."

Things I love about this photo that aren’t immediately obvious:

For those of you who weren’t aware, my friend Noah is closing up his online photography print shop on January 1. If you want a print of his work, hop over to noahgrey.com/photography to nab one.

Some of you might even remember that I was in his 2003 gallery. Look closely and you’ll see two photos of me available on that page.

My entries from my trip out to visit him are here. My favorite is one he shot that he’s never made available for sale:

[Contemplation on flickr.]

We joke about people being married to their jobs, but the numbers in my own life tell quite a tale. A typical workday sees me awake for 17 hours. I spend nine of those with co-workers. Since Jeff and I keep slightly different work schedules, I only see him for about five hours per weekday.

The jokes become less comfortable when you realize that you’re spending more hours per day with your co-workers than you do with the person you married. Co-workers don’t have the same commitment to permanence that spouses do; they are people you spend time with, but not people you share everything with. I marvel at how few people find this strange or unusual.

How to put this. How to say it in words. How to damp down thought, impression, compulsion into mere vocabulary, and leave it out for the world to see.

I hugged Brad, and I made a squeaky noise. When I had awakened earlier that morning and realized that I would see him and Alice that day, I realized it had been too long since I had seen them. Years too long.

Through rain and hellish traffic, the 4-hour drive to Brian and Suzan’s took just over 5.5 hours. We were grateful to have arrived there safe and sound, regardless of the hour. I love Thanksgivings with them, because it’s a Thanksgiving of introversion; you don’t have to sneak off to take time for yourself or make phone calls or just be alone. It’s understood and encouraged, and I took advantage of it.

“So how did it go,” you ask?

I type this, looking down at the clock on the right-hand side of my computer’s display. 6:38. I have a little bit of time, but not much. Today I really need to get out of here as early as possible, because I’m taking a long (paid) break in the middle of the day. My houseguest flies home today, and I’m not going to pass up the chance to have one last, lazy, caffeinated lunch with him before taking him to the airport and getting that quiet little lump in my throat I get every time I put someone I care about on a plane.