"Who the Hell is Dave..."

"Andy?"

"Yes. Hi", I said, peering closer at the woman who just stated my name as an expectant question. I knew the face but I couldn't place it.

"Maura."

My mind was instantly filled with memories - good memories - from a long time ago.

"Maura! Oh my God! How are you?" We reached out and hugged each other while we laughed together.

We spoke quickly, staccato-like. "How are you?" and "What are you doing here?" prevailed over the cacophony of questions designed to explain our lives for the last twenty years. As it turns out, Maura is one of the best friends to my wife's cousin, Elizabeth. We were both here for her wedding.

The last time I saw Maura was a lifetime ago. She was once the best friend to a girlfriend of mine. The summer of 1988 was a great one for us. It was filled with nights on the beach, movies, music and just long drives with nowhere to go and all-night to get there. "Who the Hell is Dave..." refers to a long-standing joke between the four of us that started in a motel room on prom night and lasted long afterwards.

Maura and I stayed in touch after my girlfriend and her boyfriend went away to college. In fact, Maura and I remained great friends even after my relationship had ended. We attended parties together, dressed up in costumes together, danced together and laughed together - a lot. We always spoke honestly with each other. We would hurt each other with the truth (when necessary) then console each other for having to do so. No matter what, I could count on Maura to be a great friend and I assume that she could do the same with me. I assumed that we would be friends forever.

Then, life happened. I got busy; she got busy. You know the drill.

Now she was here - nineteen years later.

We talked at the reception. We gave each other the reader's digest version of our lives. Maura married her boyfriend from so long ago. I spoke to him and he is exactly the same, too. A little older, a little wiser, but still the same guy. He mentioned that he and Maura had just spoken about me last week. A strange, wonderful coincidence.

Later Maura and I danced together and we laughed together. Nineteen years later and here we are again.

It's good to know people who knew you back when and not just in the now. When I look at Maura today I can still see the vivacious, intelligent and funny young woman that I knew so long ago.

Who knows what she sees when she looks at me?

An old friend is always a good friend, no matter how much time passes. I marvel at the possibility of getting to know this old friend all over again. It's quite possible that life will happen again but, somehow, hopefully, I doubt it.