Friendship is very important to me, and I suppose that can be said true for most people. Keary told me once that I take my friendships very seriously, and I guess that’s true as well.
So when your friend walks through the door looking so wounded that they seem to cringe with each step, the only thing I really want to do is hover about and nurse their injuries and shower them in comfort and wish that they were very small, so I could stick them in my pocket and protect them from the world. And, I suppose, I do my best…but it’s rather difficult when the source of pain is so muddled and confusing that you really don’t know what you can do to help it.
It’s as if your friend has some horrible disease, cirrhosis of the liver, perhaps, only you don’t know they have it. Or perhaps, you know they have it, but don’t know what cirrhosis of the liver is, or don’t understand it or how it works. So the only thing you can do is comfort them and care for them and wipe the blood from them, but you can see that it’s something inside of them which is causing them great suffering. But you don’t know how, or what exactly, and you don’t understand how to fix it.
So you sit and wait and hover about and hope that *they* understand it and know what to do. Altogether, it makes you feel a bit on the helpless side.
I am fortunate and grateful to have as many wonderful friends as I do, I suppose I need to make it a point to tell them how important they are to me. I’ll have to do that today, or soon.
