A sampler hanging in the mudroom is titled “Memorable Friends.” In red and blue thread, it simply reads: “Memory is what we choose to remember and friends are those who want to remember the very same things.”

We share a history. We sit on stools in the restaurant, regaling each other for an hour, recalling events of our joint adventures – or misadventures. We visit in each other’s homes, thinking aloud how small the children were at the time or what the house looked like before a room was added, or remembering meals we’ve shared or gifts we’ve exchanged or jokes we’ve played or hugs we’ve given.

We celebrate special occasions, and from time to time, we’ll pick up the phone like Neil Diamond: “Hello, my friend, hello. Just called to say ‘hello.'” We pass on the road and wave, our smile spontaneous as we recognize each other’s car or truck … and face.

“I count myself in nothing else so happy as in remembering my good friends,” Shakespeare’s quote appears on the front of the belated birthday card from an old friend – not actually old but longtime, that is. She always signs her cards “love and memories.”

Another dear friend epitomizes what friendship is all about as expressed in the words of Jane Austen: “There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves.”

Friendship has been on our minds lately as we read old letters or turn through pages of snapshots, missing those many friends who are no longer around, friends with whom we had quiet talks or long walks.

The other night we gathered in memorial tribute to yet another old friend and as friends do we swapped stories, songs, laughter and tears as familiarly as we had, over the years, shared recipes or photographs, in good times or bad.

The special evening called to mind a poem by Eunice Tietjens found in my worn, leather-bound “Leaves of Gold.”

“Beautiful and rich is an old friendship, grateful to the touch as ancient ivory, smooth as aged wine, or sheen of tapestry where light has lingered, intimate and long.

“Full of tears and warm is an old friendship that asks no longer deeds of gallantry, or any deed at all – save that the friend shall be alive and breathing somewhere, like a song.”

That night we listened to words from another memorial service, recycled – as friends affectionately do – from one to the other:

“We need one another when we mourn and would be comforted. We need one another when we are in trouble and afraid. We need one another when we are in despair, in temptation, and need to be recalled to our best selves again. We need one another when we would accomplish some great purpose and cannot do it alone. We need one another in the hour of success, when we look for someone to share our triumphs. We need one another in the hour of defeat, when with encouragement we might endure and stand again. We need one another when we come to die, and would have gentle hands prepare us for the journey. All our lives we are in need, and others are in need of us.”