The Stretch.  Everyone knows about it . . . or them, I should say.  There’s the 7th Inning Stretch in baseball, a two to five-minute length of time to stand up, sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” and to purchase a hot dog and another beer.  There’s the stretch of road between two points, usually heard about when asking for directions.  “Yep . . . Take this here road for a stretch then turn right at the old, abandoned barn . . . .”  And again, there’s the final “comin’ down the home stretch” in horse races when jockeys frantically strike the necks of their mounts with riding crops, urging them to surge down the last few meters in hopes of winning by a nose.  But there’s another Stretch . . . the Stretch of Time, spanning years, decades really, but seeming like only days.  This Stretch doesn’t yet have a name but it certainly does have a heart . . . A BIG one.   

“Were your ears ringing last night,” were Inga’s first words when I answered her call early one recent Sunday morning. 

“No, but I’m guessing they probably should have been,” I answered tentatively.  “Why? What have I done now?” 

Inga explained. “Were you friends with a girl in high school named Sofia?  And her brother, Matteo?”

”Yep.  Why?” I asked, “what’s so important about THEM? And how do YOU know them?”  

“Because Sofia is my neighbor and I just spent the weekend with her and her brother at the beach!  I have been telling them about you for a long time and we finally made the connection that they knew you in high school!”  

I briefly wondered what sorts of things Inga had been telling them “for a long time,” but I cast all that aside for the time being (to be revisited later).  I was more excited about reconnecting with friends from my distant past. Those high school years were the sweetest, most memorable and happiest of times. 

Inga created a group text and sent it to the three of us so we would have each other’s contact information.  We were free to chat through our keyboards or to arrange plans to meet in person.  Sofia confirmed a lunch date for 12:00 noon, one week away.  

That Monday finally arrived.  Being an early riser, I performed my usual morning routine enjoying coffee, reading news apps, looking at and selectively responding to emails and texting back-and-forth with one of my very close friends.  A sudden wave of nerves unleashed through my body like a mighty, powerful tsunami!  I was nervous about meeting Sofia!  Why, I don’t know, but I was.  

“I’m having lunch with Sofia today,” my fingers clicked a text to Inga, never expecting an immediate reply.  After all, the grandfather clock had just struck five.  I am the only one I know (besides my morning coffee friend) who is awake at such an early hour.  

“I know!” popped up onto my screen.  

“YOU KNOW?”  I asked, “How do you know?  I don’t know what to wear!  I’m so nervous!” 

“She hasn’t seen you in forever!” began Inga, “ANYTHING you wear will be a new outfit to her!” 

“True . . . but whatever I wear has to be perfect!  What if I have a bad-hair-big-butt day . . . BOTH are entirely possible!  Maybe I should make myself throw up!!!  I’ll lose five pounds!  AND I have wrinkles!  There’s nothing I can do about them!  Maybe I should slather a snail slime mask onto my face, but no!  I can’t do that!  It’s too disgusting!  I think I should do a two-hour pilates class with heavy weights.  That will still leave me with enough time to run out and buy something new and fabulous to wear . . . for Sofia and Ghost Matteo!”

“Or you could just find a quiet spot to meditate,” Inga suggested.

”MEDitate?” I scoffed, “MEDITATE?  No way!  Get outta here! Meditating stresses me out.  Besides, I have too many things to think about besides taking deep cleansing breaths and focusing my mind on  . . . nothing!  Don’t be ridiculous!” 

My iPad slammed shut, I changed into yoga pants and sports bra and performed my pilates class . . . with weights, all the while thinking about different combinations of outfits I could wear.  Why, I wondered, can’t we wear uniforms like we did in high school?  That would make this whole ordeal so much easier!

One shower and four wardrobe changes later, I walked out the door ready to face my teenage past.  I arrived at The City Club, a private women’s social establishment, a half an hour early!  I wanted to make sure I was there to greet Sofia.  I perched myself on a chair just inside the front door so there was no way I would miss her arrival.  As other women arrived, they glanced at me sideways wondering why I was seated so close to the front door. 

“I’m the door monitor today,” I offered as another group of ladies gave me their once-over assessment of disapproval.  “Actually,” I continued, “I’m meeting a friend I knew in high school and it’s been over fifty years since we’ve seen each other!  I’m so excited and I want to make sure I don’t miss her when she comes through the door!”  

Their snooty scowls instantly flipped upside down into gentle smiles. “Oh, how lovely!” they said, “have a wonderful time!” 

I checked my watch . . . 12:02 p.m.  . . . And I panicked!  “She’s LATE!” hammered my fingers in a text to Inga.  “She’s not coming!  She’s stood me up!” 

“Send me a picture when you’re seated,” replied Inga.  

After what seemed like years (or the same number of decades since we’d seen each other), the front door slowly opened revealing the most welcomed sight I’d seen in a long, long time! SOFIA!

Of course I recognized her!  No words, just wide, ear-to-ear smiles on both of our faces.  We bobbed in a warm embrace (and a few tears of happiness) until the hostess interrupted us offering to lead us to our table.  

The long-dried riverbed between us filled with fresh Spring rain.  Conversation cascaded so quickly and plentifully that almost three hours passed in what seemed like a matter of minutes.  In my mind’s eye, we were back in high school discussing our lives . . . the highs, the lows, the gains, the losses and the yet-to-be-seen.  We would have gone on for another three hours but for the subtle whispers and “ahems” from the waiters trying to tell us that the dining room was closing!  

“Oh my gosh, Sofia!”  I said, “we’re the last ones standing!  Everyone’s gone!  I really don’t want to leave but we’d better before we’re asked!” 

There is much more to come, I’m sure.  The elastic band of friendship that bound us together over fifty years ago has stretched far enough.  This nameless Stretch of Time may have distanced us but our hearts have always  . . . And will always be close.