Forever Friends

I was 14 years old when I met Lori, 15, at the Youth Center on Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona. We were both “military brats.” Our families lived in on-base housing adjacent to Davis-Monthan.

Fast forward to January 2021.

Facebook. Someone named “Lori” messaged me, asking if I ever lived in Tucson. I was intrigued by the reference to Tucson and mentioned that I lived in Tucson from 1976 to 1979. (That was when I was attending graduate school at the University of Arizona.)

She asked, “Did you spend any time on Davis-Monthan Air Force Base?”

“Yes – that was the first time I lived there. Sixth grade through ninth grade. I went back for graduate school,” I said.

“Do you remember me? I think we met at the Youth Center,” Lori added. “You were my best friend. We were a camel together.”

I was no longer curious. I remembered her! A distant past morphed into reality. Lori was beautiful and confident, and I was her sidekick.

Flashback to the Youth Center. We went to dances, played pool, and met other Air Force brats. We laughed all the time. We even participated in a costume contest, constructing a paper-mache camel’s head. Lori held this fabricated head up; she was the “first hump;” I was the second. We concealed our heads and bodies with a blanket, leaving only our feet in view.

Today Lori lives in Texas. Where I am. Facebook messaging and phone calls connect us virtually leading to a decision to meet in person after receiving our coronavirus vaccines. Lori lives about a three-hour drive away from me. The story begins again.

Fast forward to May 2021.

Even as COVID-19 persists, Lori drives to see me on a Friday morning. We are both masked as we meet, hugging and crying. A day full of wonder, we talked nonstop. About everything. Families, jobs, hopes for the future – and reminiscing about our time together in Tucson.

She leaves the next day, Saturday. I miss her. But I know we’ll get together again soon. Memories may fade, but they never go away.