Today I took my friend Ryan out to the Farm.
Ryan is one of my oldest friends, we met when I was 15. He was only about six months older, but he was a grade higher than me which didn't matter since we went to different schools anyway.

We met because he and Brandi worked at the same pet store. Bran said "Do you know my sister Dusti?", "No" replied Ryan. She thought he seemed like he should be one of our friends, and thus he was "adopted" into out lives.
Here they are at the Farm today, they haven't seen each other in about ten years.
Doesn't Bran look stunning, by the way?

The short version of Ryan's past 7 years is that he was driving drunk and got himself into a deadly accident. I could go on about it, but I won't; he was in a coma for about three months, "they" didn't expect him to live, he did.
He is now a "Traumatic Brain Injury" survivor and lives in an apartment next to his parent's house on their property. He often says that he's a totally different person, and I take it as though he lays no claim on his previous identity. It bothers me because I'm friends with the original Ryan, which makes me friends with this "new one" too.
When we were kids he was full of typical teenaged angst, he was an Atheist with a sharp wit and a love of alternative rock; a poster child for generation X. He went to school for a while after graduation to study philosophy, then he worked as a vet tech and collected poisonous snakes and other reptiles. We were roommates for years and lived in a warehouse that was formerly a reptile wholesaler. Ryan lived in an office converted to bedroom with wall to wall aquariums housing such rarities as a Gaboon Viper. He would call me into his room to "Come watch me feed my snake, it's amazing!" The snake would strike at the mouse, raise up about 6 inches off the ground with it in his mouth and "walk" it down his throat using his enormous fangs like fingers. It was amazing!
As I said, he was full of angst as a teenager, and was what I'd call cynical as a young adult, but he was a great friend and I always felt like that was just his way.
Seven years after his accident, he has come a long way from having only a twenty percent chance to survive as his doctors warned us while he lay in intensive care. That was a nightmare, actually I remember it like watching someone else's nightmare unfold in front of me. It was a first row seat in a parent's worst nightmare. I watched his Mom and Dad stand over his bed and plead with him to wake up, and I prayed with them for him to return to us. It was an extended period of Limbo. One of the things I remember is the smell of staph coursing through his body, it made me feel sick with empathy for what he must be going through. I remembered that smell from when I contracted a staph infection after a surgery when I was 13. It's an awful sweet kind of odor that conjures up memories of my own physical Hell, which paled in comparison to his by far. Staph is something a person usually only contracts in the hospital, and I remember thinking "Who would have guessed that we'd ever have this in common?"

(Danny digs around in the muck at the pond's edge today while we walk around with Ryan)
Today Ryan is a full-on Christian who doesn't drink, smoke, or cuss and doesn't much appreciate anyone else doing those things either. We discussed the finer points of alcoholism, and how much drinking is too much. I gently debate this and many other topics with him when we get together, because that's just what we've always done. We used to argue with each other vehemently, but now it's as though he is still rebuilding his cognitive functioning so there is no point in being very pushy about anything. I will sort of pose questions to him on the topics of morality and religion; part of it is because I just think he'd enjoy it and part of it is me trying to get to know him now. When asked some questions he defers to other people who he looks to as an authority on the topic in question, like you do as a kid. It's interesting, I think he is rebuilding a whole persona, as he doesn't remember years of his life, and eschews much of what he does.
All of this begs the question, "What makes you who you are?" and "How can you be anyone other than who you are?" What I mean is, how can anyone say "That's not Ryan"? Ryan is who he is right now; every event in his life has led up to who he is today. Who's to say he didn't genuinely find God after what he went through? How can this and all the other changes be a barrier to friendship for people, some who have known him far longer than I? It's not like we're all kids still; we don't all have to agree on everything and we can't "hang out" for hours or days on end like you did when you were growing up anyway. How hard is it to call every once in a while or get together a few times a year?

We didn't go far, we walked out only past the old metal junk that came with the farm at the head of the trail down to the first little creek that flows to the Big Pond. Ryan gets tired faster than I do, which is normal. Actually it's odd for me to have more stamina than someone; being "gimpy" is another thing I never would have thought we'd have in common.
I thought about that as we headed back up to the house. I asked him about how quickly he gets tired, and what being tired is like for him. It sounds eerily like typical MS symptoms. Such odd things we have in common now, but it's something.
Danny stands atop a root ball from a tree overturned during hurricane Hugo years ago. It's now covered in thick beautiful moss. Two decades later the woods still show scars from the damage, but it's all softened. These woods have been building back up all these years, slow and steady. Everything is different, but it's still the same. It's still the same Holy ground I walked growing up, still the same trail I rode horses through day and night year after year.

It was so sad when that hurricane tore through here, rearranging everything in its path. But it was just an event in time. Everything is always changing, nothing is ever fixed, that is just an illusion.
At one time these woods had much bigger and older pines, cedars and oaks. At one time Ryan was too "smart" to believe in God. At one time I was naive and sheltered in my knowledge that nothing really "bad" would ever occur to me.
Now that these woods have been cleared out a little we have Hickory trees and others that used to be more scarce. Now after he nearly died Ryan knows God and takes comfort in all that experience entails. Now that I've had a dose of my own mortality and frailty through an MS diagnosis I am truly more present in my life.
Everything is constantly changing. How things appear to be right now, it's just a moment in time. Life is change, and change is good.