I called one of my dearest friends, Buttercup, last night. We haven't spoken for almost a year, but we talked comfortably as only old friends can. Buttercup is the kind of friend who doesn't hold a grudge if you drift out of her life for a time. She is always waiting with open arms, the same way I wait for her. We will always be friends, because she knows how to give her friends room to fly yet always welcomes them back after their journeys.
I love you, Buttercup. It was wonderful to hear that you regularly read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I'm not surprised you never comment. You always were a bit on the mysterious side.
In case you missed it the first time, here is a story about the time Buttercup and I worked at a summer camp in Minnesota.
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