And there were 10...

I did drinks last night with my old friends from college, at one of our old favorite drinking holes in Tempe. Of course, the group has shrunk now; there was a time when there were about 30 of us. When you could make just a few phone calls and then boatloads would show up, and we were all friends, and didn't have to ask how each other were doing because we already knew. We knew everything -- who was dating who, who was moving, who was sad at life, and so on.

And so this Thanksgiving, I let off the siren, sent an email out to the old crew, a request for their presence this Thanksgiving weekend, four years after we all graduated. I wanted to see their faces and hear their stories and see how they are. I have to ask now.

The group of 30 is no more. It was more like a group of 10 of us. We huddled close to the table and told anecdotes that began with "Remember when...?" and I marveled at the madness of it all, the passing of time, the enduring nature of change.

My friend Erik, who now lives in San Jose, grinned. I asked him if he was having a good time.

"I am!" he said. "It almost makes me want to move back here. Almost. But then I remember that all these people don't live here anymore."

And it's true. He's gone, up to the North bay, along with Arpit. Tracy's in the city. I am in Los Angeles. My brother in San Diego. Ben and Stacy have a kid now and their priorities have changed. Travis and Katie are in Virginia. Rachel and Justin are moving to Denver for the hell of it. Maren's in Chicago. Patrick and Bridget are itching to move and the right opportunity just hasn't come along yet.

Who else? Jason #2 is in Los Angeles. Derek went off a few years ago for something school related and I fail to recall his whereabouts now. The neighbor boys from college have moved back to Jersey. Brandon's in London. Other friends have ran off to New York.

These friends became restless and the world has sucked them into its wild path. They have gone off to wander and to explore and to live. We are now scattered across the planet like stars in the sky. I wonder at it all.

Despite any sadness that might accompany this wondering, I now have ski friends in Colorado. Access to London flats. Friends to ring for shenanigans in San Francisco. Blustery Chicago friends. People to celebrate the New York night.

But, yes. Erik was right. All these people don't live here anymore.