I had spent a few days in Austin visiting friends.

I live in Louisiana, so it's sort of an all-day drive.

On my last day in Austin, my old friend Tom had

commented on my Instagram story asking when I leave, and I said today. He told me he lived an hour

outside of Austin, which was actually in the direction home for me. I hadn't seen Tom in years,

and it would be nice to catch up. He said I should stop by and I said sure,

why not? I set my GPS for Tom's address and it said about an hour and a half drive. Tom and I

had been friends back in high school but lost touch after graduation. We followed each other on

social media but hadn't really spoken in years.

When I pulled up, I noticed his house was a little old-fashioned.

It wasn't run down or anything, just aged.

The wooden porch creaked under my steps, and when he opened the door, I caught the scent

of old wood and something rustic, like an old cabin in the woods.

Tom was of course very welcoming, giving me a big

hug and pulling me inside. Some friendships stayed just as pure no matter how much time passes.

The inside of the house was just as old as the outside. The furniture looked like it had been

around since the 70s, and every step I took on the hardwood floors led out a small creek.

It felt kind of Texas, I guess.

It was kind of charming in a way, like stepping back in time.

We sat down in his living room, catching up on life, drinking whiskey.

Tom always was a whiskey guy.

He'd always order a Jack and coke at the bar.

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