Friends
Yesterday, a dear old friend came over—someone I hadn’t seen in years, yet whose presence still felt as familiar as my own heartbeat. His name is Sasaa. We grew up together, sharing a childhood filled with laughter, scraped knees, and boundless curiosity. Back then, life was simple. We would spend our afternoons swimming in the village pond, the water cool and welcoming under the summer sun. Afterward, we’d climb trees barefoot, chasing the thrill of height and the hope of discovering hidden bird nests among the leaves. We were explorers, dreamers, and fearless companions in our little world.
Seeing Sasaa again after so long brought those memories rushing back with a vividness that surprised me. We sat together at the table, cups of tea between us, and time seemed to stretch, almost as if it was bending to allow us to relive those moments. We talked for hours—about everything and nothing. About life, about the paths we’d taken, and especially about our shared past. At one point, we looked out toward the trees, watching the birds flutter and dart through the branches. Just like we used to do as boys, we found ourselves imagining which ones might have nests hidden above, laughing softly as we remembered how we used to try to spot them—and how the birds would always fly away just before we got close.
There was something magical about that moment. Not just in remembering what once was, but in realizing that some bonds, some friendships, don’t fade with time. They only grow deeper. We didn’t need anything fancy. Just the quiet company of an old friend, the rustling of leaves, and the graceful flight of birds were enough to make the afternoon feel full and meaningful.
It was a wonderful time—one of those rare days that remind you of who you were, and how far you’ve come, yet make you feel like a child again, if only for a little while. As we sat together reminiscing, our conversation naturally drifted back to those sun-soaked days of our childhood, when life was simple and summer felt endless. We laughed as we remembered how we used to compete in swimming races, diving into the cool, blue lake with all the energy and excitement our young hearts could hold. That lake was our world—a place of freedom, adventure, and unspoken friendship. Its water was so clear and vibrant, it seemed to shimmer under the sun like a sheet of living glass.
Sasaa and I would challenge each other to see who could swim the fastest, who could hold their breath the longest, and who could dive the deepest. We’d slip under the surface, disappearing into a world of silence and movement, feeling weightless and free. Sometimes we’d just float on our backs, staring at the sky, dreaming about the future without realizing how perfect the present already was.
The lake wasn’t just a body of water—it was the heart of our childhood. The trees that lined its edge, the laughter echoing across its banks, the dragonflies skimming the surface—all of it formed the backdrop of our most cherished memories. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still see that vivid blue, feel the rush of water around me, and hear our voices calling to each other with excitement.
Sasaa and I shared a childhood that was rich, not in possessions, but in moments. There was a beauty in those carefree days that no amount of time can erase. Sitting across from him now, older and grayer, it warmed my heart to know that the bond we built in those waters still lived on. That shared history—our blue lake, our games, our innocent competitions—remains one of the most beautiful chapters of our lives.
