There are friendships that last the test of time – they are an organism of their own, they maintain their structure even without seeing each other every day, or even every week – they are organic.
You see, as a Greek I had a different notion of friendship. I used to see my friends daily, talk on the phone with them at least five times a day, go together for coffee, breakfast, lunch, dinner, holidays and everything in between. So, when I came to London my concept of friendship was challenged. I went on to lose these friends, something that cost me dearly. I mourned them for some time, then moved on by trying to find new ones; however it was difficult to replicate this model of friendship. It took me time, effort and energy to truly move on and reevaluate what friendship meant to me.
An integral part of this process was E. We met at student halls and became friends the way you learn how to tie your shoes: first with a conscious understanding; then, as time went by, with an ease that felt like second nature.
We moved together, lived a glorious six months of frustrated IKEA furniture building, pure culinary mayhem, late night viewings of Greece’s Next Top Model and casual tea breaks that would stretch into hours of deep and daft talks.
We moved away but never apart. E moved out of London for work and we would catch up occasionally. When I broke up with S she was the first person we told. She has been there, even when there has been somewhere else.
So now that she is back in London we catch up more frequently, yet still not as frequently as I would like. So, last Sunday we called each other, got wrapped up in scarves and coats and met at the Caravan for brunch.
Just a stone throw away from Kings Cross, it is a glorious brunch Mecca – I salivated even looking at the menu. I ordered the sweet potato juice and the poached eggs on toast and we went on to catch up. I told her
everything about the ex, she told me about her life, we talked, we laughed, we giggled and then as we always do had a moment or two of everyone-is-looking-at-us- hysterical laughter.
We got up, walked to the station and hugged goodbye. Some hugs feel like home. And if home is where the heart is, E is always in mine.