I’m a bad friend. I’m a worse blogger, but I’m a bad friend. SEVERAL weeks ago, Chase and I had a pretty fantastic evening and I swore to him that I’d come here and tell the internets all about it. That was just after Christmas, I think… Anyway, my apologies, Chasetopher. This one’s for you, babe. =)

When Chase and I were younger, we’d spend hours—literally hours—walking up and down the length of Bardstown road, talking angsty philosophy. In the face of all that does, some things never change. (I don’t often get to say this, but) Thanks to facebook, I discovered that Chase would be in town for a brief window of time. I jumped on my chance and we met up at Highland Coffee and then Ramsi’s, with some detours along the way. Most significantly, we stopped at Psychic Peaches, a palm/tarot reader. The house is squeezed between the Scientology library and Kashmir; it’s hard to miss. I’m not much on the up-and-up of small business ownership, but how in the hell Ms. Peaches affords the rent, I’ll never know. Presumably, the zoning is for commercial businesses, but I really don’t know. You walk in the front door, and in the foyer is a little table with a laptop. Just beyond, you can see into a living room of sorts, with a couch, some rugs, and a tv on the opposite wall that I could only hear. Maybe she just likes her working environment to feel homey, but it certainly appears that she lives there.
After some discussion about services and pricing, Peaches led us into a separate room off to the left. In the middle of the room, against the window was a large, impressive, beautiful blue spruce. Psychic Peaches was impressive, too. She was dressed like a civilian, but her face was all business; she never smiled. She gave some good news, she gave some bad news, and it was fascinating to watch Chase take it all in. Peaches let me stand in the room while she delivered the reading, and the perspective as an outsider was amazing.
Every so often, throughout the reading, the tree would drop handfuls of needles, skittering like pins onto the hardwood floor. Later on, Chase asked if I could remember at which points specifically the needles fell—lending greater import to certain cards, perhaps?—but at the time, I was too absorbed to notice.
After he paid, we walked down the sidewalk, mostly in silence. Eventually, I turned to Chase and wished him condolences on his chakras, which—according to Peaches—were gray. This, evidently, came as little surprise to Chase and after some explanation, we fell into an easy conversation about what we’d really been up to these past few years. There’s something about seeing an old friend again that never fails to intrigue me. Chase and I had been warm, friendly, and social up to that point, but it felt a little polite, quite honestly. Psychic Peaches broke the ice though, and we began to open up.
I’d like to say that there are only a handful of people with whom this kind of immediate intimacy after a long separation is possible, but honestly, that’s not really the truth. Not to say I’m a disclosure whore, but two of the things I value most in my friends are loyalty and low-maintenance. The friends I’d consider my closest—those whom I’d actually go out of my way to spend time with, given the opportunity—are the same ones with whom I know I’ll fall right back into step. I’m pleased as punch to discover that Chase is among them.