Forever Young

"David," I said, taking my best friend aside to talk. "There's something on my mind, which I have to talk about. I hope you don't mind."
David nodded, his face reflecting his usual concern and attentiveness. He always was like that with everyone he met. "Yeah, sure."
Once certain no other ears listened, I continued.
"I don't know how to say it, mate. We grew up together in high school, so I figure we know each other pretty well, right?"
"Yeah."
I watched his face, calculating and measuring my words. It was nor or never. I had to know.
"Well, I have these strange conflicting memories. It's hard to explain. Here you are, solid as a rock, talking and laughing with everyone else who act like they don't know what I know about you. Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to see you and talk to you...
"But I remember standing at your graveside eleven years ago -- two years after you died. How can it be?"
He paused, looking no older than I remembered him when I had last seen him alive - eighteen years ago. He nibbled his lower lip while he thought.
"Johnno," he said, "I don't know. I've wondered the same thing."
A smile escaped his lips, and I was glad he didn't feel offended by my question, or apparent lack of sanity.
"Whatever it is," I replied with a grin, "you must be sorely missed or needed to be back here. Like a timelord, you haven't aged."

Then I woke.

It's funny how the friends we haven't seen in so many years never age in our dreams.

They remain young forever in our hearts and memory.

(c) Copyright Chris Johnson 2019. All Rights Reserved.