Last night we gathered with an group of old,old friends and revisited that venerable lesbian institution, The Pot Luck.
It had been so long since we had seen each other. It seems as one gets older life gets in the way and nesting at home seems more and more appealing.
So there we were, one long time couple who hold a Houston record for the number of years together, one friend recovering from a break up, another who was solo for the evening ( her partner was out of out of state caring for aging parents) and My Beloved and myself.
One wonderful thing about old friends (if we added up the years we had all known each other it would approach the century mark) is that it does not matter how long it’s been, the conversation picks up as if it were yesterday.
We all summed up the events of our past six months in just a few sentences. There was enough history between us the sketchy details were all that were necessary.
No longer did we talk of jobs and careers – retirement is imminent for some and the rest us are settled and content with where we are. Career advancement is no longer a priority any longer. Our children are sleeping through the night, done with the terrible twos and finished with their adolescent rebellions.
This time the talked turned to ageing parents, the state of their health ,and the state of ours. We are the baby boomers, not only are we muddling through our own upcoming old age we are also coping with our parents. The talk ranged from cholesterol medications and assisted living versus in home care.
Of course, being women we had to catch up with who was with whom, who left whom and whatever happened to so and so. Taking a tip from the L Word we created our own “chart”. When it comes to lesbian relationships it is not six degrees of separation, it’s only three. Either our community is too small or we are not adventurous enough to look outside our comfort zone.
The party broke up at 10pm. Because not only are we old friends, we are also getting old.