A Sincere offering of friendship.
I spoke of black licorice, and it is relevant for sure today. Every day, even every hour, is packed with a thousand experiences, a thousand thoughts, a thousand journeys, a thousand feelings. Some we choose to share, some we keep close to our hearts and share with no one.
This has been my day. I had meant to keep almost all of it to myself, to speak figuratively, using black licorice as an oblique symbol. Since I am liking black licorice lately.
One feeling, one experience, is begging for a little more press.
I have a friend. I love my friend, maybe because she loved me first. She is so sick that her life hangs in the balance. This friend, though she was ill long before I moved here, would often drop by the house and check on me during construction, when the guys had all left and I was working alone. Walking up my unfinished stairs took a lot out of her. We’d chat, and she was so consistent in her visits, I couldn’t doubt her sincere offering of friendship. When I was finishing our pine floors, she sat in the hallway just outside the rooms I was working in, amidst the awful fumes, and we talked about our childhoods and our own children and our husbands while I worked. I was so comforted by that, so touched that she sat and talked with me. She remained consistent in her friendship in the months after. Who would not love that?
We would sometimes talk about her health, and I understood that it was compromised, and that someday, she would need surgery in order to survive. This weekend, I was surprised and beyond concerned to learn that she’d been hospitalized. The anticipated surgery is scheduled. It is in a matter of days, and it’s very risky. Her recuperation will take months. So sudden, even though I’d always known about the possibility. It is a little surreal, talking with her now (she’s home from the hospital til the night before the surgery). She’s focusing on her children, their upcoming homework and soccer games and dental appointments and formals. I’m not sure what I would focus on if I were her. As her friend, I focus on the moments I’m with her. Wanting them to be good, wanting them to be helpful somehow.
Another friend called today. I thought I’d keep all my moments and thoughts and feelings close to my heart, but she said “Tell me”, and so I did. It was a relief to cry, to say things out loud, to be heard. I was surprised: the release was so sudden and so easy, and I’d been holding some things so tightly to myself for so long. Surprised, but very grateful. I so need friends. Who doesn’t?
Thank you, friends (all of you). I love you.
