Christmas time. Family is calling. Home is calling. Friends are calling. Time goes by, but nothing really changes. More Jack Daniels please.

Sunscreen ... or how to understand the importance of being 12

The 24 of december started only in the late afternoon. I spent hours on a train that was supposed to arrive at Milan much earlier, and I waste hours waiting with angry travellers for the train from Milan to my town. And I madly enjoyed it. I was living at a different speed. Everyone around me was running, screming, phoning, biting their nails. I wasn't. I was just reading and listening to music. And looking at everyone else. Maybe was still the effects of the alcohol from the night before. Maybe it wasn't.

Back at home, me and my sister, with my dad, mum and pets, opened the christmas presents. I won't bother you with the details, but everyone received something that liked. Or I hope so. Normal Chrismas dinner and, after some family drinks, back to the pub. This time I walked. You know, I guess I could read more pages of my book with the fainting winter lights. My good ole friend Beppe gave me a lift just 2 miles away from the Texas. And we talked even more. I wanted more about my old life, I wanted to drown by the memories I don't remember. I've even met another old friend from the old times. I haven't seen him in the last 9 years. We were talking about him, after many years, just two nights before. How weird.

More alcohol (but at least just before evening I managed to go for a christmas jog around the fields in my area for about 45 minutes) and more words. More words, and more memories. And, with Max and Beppe, I realized that yes, the best friend are those whom you meet when you're 12. They don't hang around you because you have something they don't, or because you listen to the same music or because they like the same football team.
They're your friends just because happened. And when you're twelve, you feel complete with them, and with a football and with time so spare and with a life to dream on.
You don't give a shit about girls at 12 because only few months later they will grow the kind of thing that blind guys in the early teenager years: breasts.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on.

Merry Christmas, guys. Happy Birthday, Beppe.

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