Would You Like To Be Friends

Would You Like To Be Friends

 

There are many unspoken conversations between us.
Occasionally a corner of intimacy is lifted, momentarily,
and then hurriedly replaced to avoid embarrassment.
I don’t know how much I can say without betraying
everything and everyone: communications rarely end
with those involved. They have a way of proliferating and
promulgating themselves. Everyone has a confidant, who
is not always confidential, and word spreads like hot butter
or the avian knowledge of bread crumbs in a public park.
I don’t want to say too much and scare you or too little and
lose you. Foremost, I want to be your friend, if that is
possible. To be honest, whatever that may be.

True friendship requires commitment for emotional
intimacy – to share the triumphs and Waterloos of life; to
nurture and exhort; share vulnerabilities and be available.

It’s crying out to the other person when even God
himself seems to be deaf.

It’s knowing about the dark times and being faithful as a
friend.

It’s propping you up when you teeter and pulling you up
when you fall. It’s carrying you when the blisters and
bunions of care have become intolerable.

It’s helping you to address the past and then move on,
not to be stymied by past failures or perceived failures.

It’s more than love; it’s action. It’s not an infatuation
with certain skills or talents. It’s fidelity and fraternity. It’s
an encouragement to make new memories. It’s setting the
person free to be whatever they can be. it’s the cue-person,
the off-stage advocate. It’s not a father-figure but it is a
conscience to a degree. It doesn’t seek accolade or domi-
nation, exclusivism or physical exploitation. Yet, it’s not
platonic or purely philosophical. It’s dynamic, heartfelt,
intense, important, even critical.

It has to be harnessed creatively and not destructively.
Other important lives cannot be beached by the fusion.

The limits are inherent and intuitive and need not be
expressed.

One must allow time for these commitments to season
and solidify. the milieu of each other’s lives must be
explored. Much of this is mundane instead of giddy. It has
to do with consistency. It must be above reproach and
realistic but brave and unconditional at the same time.

It demands confidentiality, compassion, time. It can
never totally understand a lot of things. It never will. It will
be disappointed and discouraged at times. a lack of commu-
nication will sometimes be misinterpreted as dispassion.
However, friendship is predicated on a belief that it will
always survive no matter what. In the hollow nights or
hurried afternoon it survives.

When you feel pushed back or put down or put off you
believe it survives. It always matters; it’s always important
but someday it may be critical.

That’s when the arbors spring to life with a thousand
roses; when the fruit bears its first apricot. Friendship is not
the wait for the dramatic. It’s the daily journey of commit-
ment that says “I’m here, I love you. come what may,
I believe in you.”

It’s finally admitting our destiny instead of running away
from it. It’s finally accepting our responsibility though we
tried to deny it. To be a friend is to really, really care.
I really care about you – friend.

from Did Someone Say Tomorrow
 by Mark Howard Bowles

© Mark Howard Bowles