I had lunch with a friend today who I've seen once in the past year, and that was over three months ago. That happens sometimes... Time goes by quickly, before you know it, it's been half a year since you last called each other and then you know that that "quick call" to catch up won't be quick at all so you put it off until an evening when you do have the time to talk but then you never have time and it's been another three months... So we finally made plans and met up. I had to ask for her address again because I couldn't remember what number it was and wasn't sure I'd recognize it if I passed it. The usual re-connecting questions and answers covered the first hour as we prepared lunch together.
'Where you been these days? Used to being in Holland again?'
'How's life? Enjoying med school?'
'What's new? Really, a new house?!'
'Any news in the relationship area?'
'No. Any news in the baby area? Ha!'
Then a brief silence.
'Amanda, my dad died. Two months ago. Complications with the chemo. Leukemia. He was 61. Now my mom is alone. We went out for her birthday last month but it was not a happy occasion. He wasn't there. I love my mom, she's sweet. But my dad was my friend. And he's gone. I've lost a friend. I miss him. But it's strange, I feel like he isn't really gone yet, it isn't real. I went to a funeral last week for a friend who's cousin killed himself; I cried more at that funeral then at my own father's. Christmas will be hard.'
I stayed for another hour; I'll make sure I call before three months. Too much happens when you wait too long, and I wasn't there with her.

On the way home I rushed into the train to get a seat facing the direction of travel, bypassing the seat next to a young teen sitting across from her mother, chewing loudly on chips, laughing and talking as if she was the only one in the cabin or onstage and with something actually important and funny to say. Her mother asked her to move her bags and put her feet on the floor so others could sit next to her.
Her answer was a flat "Nee". I could hear in her voice the challenging look she surely gave her mother.
No one sat next to her.
"See," she said.
I took a seat across the aisle, one row ahead of her. The woman in the seat across from me look up, glanced at me and rolled her eyes, then went back to her book. A boy sitting one seat ahead of me watched the girl through the space between the seats. She was very pretty. But he looked displeased.
"Mama, do you know that I hate you?"
A muffled response, probably "What?"
"Do you know that I hate you?"
Silence.
Everyone in the cabin waited for a response, but nothing.
"I'm just teasing, mama. I don't really hate you. "