In the Warmth of the Familiar Voices

"I miss your laughter the most" said a familiar voice at the other end of the phone. She was teasing me. I am known to have gold fish memory, though not of the mountains. The call came from the United States and I wondered who could it be. 

"It took me ages to fish out your number and finally found you. How have you been and where are you working now?", she chimed in excitement. I was clueless. I knew that voice, but just could  not place it. I gave up in despair and begged her to reveal her identity.

"Remember, how you dumped me and another friend from your bike on the one-way street when you saw a cop headed in your direction?" 
Then it dawned on me and I burst out laughing. They were my only two girlfriends with whom I did a triples on my bike. We were an adventurous lot.

Those were glorious days of youthful adventure when none of us had a care in the world. We spoke at length, now distanced by geography, but closer in our hearts. 

We basked in the warmth of each other's familiar voices before it was time to hang up, but not before we made a solemn promise to stay in touch again.

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The week before, I had meticulously followed-up with another childhood friend for dinner, but not before I fought with the idea of how he no longer has time for me in his busy life. I absolutely adore him, so the expectation was over the moon I suppose. 

When he shared his schedule for May, all I could ask was, "Whom should I speak to, to get some time on your calendar for early next year?" 

He laughed. "22nd to 28th, I am in Chennai."

"Which month is this?", I asked. He laughed again (Understandably).

"LOL April". 

"Ok, try meeting up? I'll call? How does this work?" 

"Yes Madam". 

So I called and we fixed a weekend to catch up.

On Saturday, I messaged him about a gig by a singer we did not know. I din't hear from him for a few hours and I gave up. I had made up my mind to get there on my own. 

Our city really needs more of these music scenes. We are limping there, in all honesty.

The phone finally rang and that old, familiar, laid back voice boomed, "Good evening". I am not the one for formalities. 

We drove to the venue later that evening and enjoyed a lovely dinner over some good music, a mezze, and some lovely French wine, red. 

One of the best evenings, I must say. 

Until we meet again for dinner and ice-creams, "Cheers, my dear friend".