It was deceiving, really.

They’re actually blue.

I don’t know why they are called the White Mountains in New Hampshire. From every angle I saw, they looked blue in the midsummer light.

The tent, however, was white. It’s peaks pointed to the sky, as if it was calling the whole earth to the party that would soon commence within its shade, a party with food and dancing that would introduce a newly married couple to the world. People would gather from every region of the country, and even from as far away as China and Germany, to love some friends at a major transition in their life.

It was deceiving, really.

They were still there.

Some things linger, even when you expect them to dissipate.

I didn’t have time to prepare. I just knew it was Wednesday, and that meant it was time to get to the bus stop and make my way to the airport. Even the time it takes to cross the ocean wasn’t enough for me to ready myself. I would land in Boston to be greeted with such force by the dearest of friends, so that it seemed as if all the old red bricks of the city reached out to wrap me in their welcoming arms.

Could I have forgotten so easily, these friendships forged in truth and tears? So much in my world has changed in the last year, so naturally that means everything has changed, right?

No. There they were, in front of me. We wove stories, trying to pull back the curtain enough to be seen and see; revealing that while jobs, romances, and locations had changed, much had not. We were still bound together. We were still friends.

It is deceiving, really.

I had forgotten that I could be so deeply connected to people.

Being new does that to you.

Fledgling relationships are… well, fledging. They can’t fly until they have taken time to grow feathers. There’s no shortcut for knowing why someone is laughing. There’s no app that tells you when someone’s hiding hurt from the world. There’s no intensive course for learning what passions make someone get out of bed some mornings and what demons keep them in bed other mornings. No, those are time earned truths.

Their lack of presence in the present, however, is by no means a dictate of reality.

But a lack of patience makes a seedbed for deception.

If you get closer to the New Hampshire mountains, you’ll see the remarkably white granite slabs that hold them so high above the earth. If you get on a plane to see dear friends at a wedding, you’ll realize that hard-fought love is not as fickle as it seems.

And maybe, if you give it time, you’ll find other lies debunked too.

Still Wandering,

Tony