I was walking through O’Hare airport and saw an old girlfriend I hadn’t seen in years. Dori was a very close friend of mine all through grade school, high school, and for a few semesters in college.  I thought about her often.  I hate it when friendships run their course, it makes me sad. I stopped at the gate where Dori was waiting for her flight, and we tried to catch up. It’s hard when you know you’ve got five minutes to cover thirty years.  So we said a little bit about nothing. The best we could do was exchange statistics about children, parents, siblings and friends we had in common. When we were saying our good-byes, Dori said to me, “Life is a journey.” Why did she leave me with that tired cliché? Now it’s indelibly stuck in my memory associated with her.  Whenever I hear somebody say, “Life is a journey,” Dori pops up in my mind and I relive that awkward airport meeting all over again. Read next feature >