Old Scars

Alex called me the other night.  Alex is a friend from my childhood who got my current number from an associate who I had spoken to a little while ago.  I have not heard from Alex in quite some time.  I recognized his voice immediately when I heard it.  Alex was my closest friend when I was between the ages of 14 and 16 years old.  We had an interest in comic books and music.  I remember how I would go to his home and we would spend hours drawing comics from our imaginations.  We both were fairly good artists and our vivid imaginations helped us to create comics that were filled with action and the most powerful, yet compassionate, heroes.  We would get lost in our world for hours.  Those were fun times.  Alex's father was a large, burly military man.  Although his father always treated me with kindness and greeted me with a smile, it was different for Alex.  Alex was terrified of his father voice and at the time I could never understand why.  Alex's mother was a timid, sweet woman who always made sure that Alex and I had something to eat and drink while we we conquering the universe through our comic books.  I also remember that this was the time when I lost my virginity to a girl who was visiting her cousin during the summer.  I was sixteen and had never so much as ground on a girl through my pants.  However; this girl was fast.  She wanted me and before I knew what was happening I was having sex.  But enough about that. I will perhaps save that for a later date.  
It wasn't until years later that I had learned that Alex had experienced  a mental breakdown.  Since then, his father has died from prostrate cancer but Alex is not totally well. He is 53 years old and cannot drive.  Altough he teaches music to school age children, he is unfamiliar with the use of a computer, and although currently married, he is remains relegated to our past hobby of drawing comic books. He is not trusting of too manypeople, including me.  I need to go and see Alex.  I want to hug him and reaffirm our friendship.  I know what it is like to have wounds that are invisible to others.  Like many of you, I have lived through loss, ridicule, embarrassment and fear from years gone by.  I have learned to come to peace with many of my past demons; especially the ones I initiated, and I am better for it.  Hearing from Alex reminded me that it is necessary to keep in touch our old wounds.  Our old wounds keep us from forgetting where we came from.  They help us stay in touch with who we were before all of the success and money and cars and pantries filled with food. 
Love one another today and remember where you came from.
Dennis