Two of my most beloved friends both arrived at my apartment this morning at 8am. I served pierogis, cinnamon toast, kielbasa, sour-cherry cobbler and espresso for breakfast. Leftovers, from yesterday’s Polish feast.
One’s a Jesuit, the other knows their world like me–from living, working, and hanging out with them way too much.
I saw Molly just a few weeks ago in Omaha for Easter. Her presence in Chicago was a surprise plan though, as it just so happens her new/old squeeze is working around the area.
But Artur, who first originally brought me to Poland in 2008 to work at the English Summer Camps, I hadn’t seen since I lived around the corner from the Jesuit house in Krakow three years ago, when we frequently went out for Tatankas and kielbasa in the old Jewish district. He was a Godsend in Krakow, letting me stay at the Jesuit house when I first arrived after my wild stint in East Africa and frequently supplied me with cake and coffees at his office where I occasionally worked. It was a strange time for both me and Molly, as we reminisced today how many nights we skype-chatted from Kenya to Thailand, or Poland to Cambodia, about how terrified and sad and overwhelmed we always were doing the refugee work, (and also how awesome the moto-rides and crazy international nights were.)
There have been many travels between us three. After a few Tatankas yesterday, Artur and I spoke Spanish for a solid 30 minutes, at least. We seem to be about the same level, as he is coming straight from 9-months in Mexico. That, more than even me living in Chicago, gainfully employed, made me feel the time that has passed. Three years was moons ago. And I can still speak Spanish, which was a nice surprise.
I love reunions. I love my friends and my wonderful memories. What a great start to summer.