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Truth, Sweet or Bitter 2/24/2008 7:02:39 PM
Truth, Sweet and Bitter
An e-mail in my Junk Mail caught my eye last night—addressed “Old Friends,” it truly was from a college friend I knew briefly, but whose friendship gave me both hope and a semblance of sanity when my nightmare teenage world could easily have devoured me.
Incredibly, as short lived as our time together was—a semester as a little known college in the north Georgia woods—we fashioned a friendship that matters still, in spite of life, or perhaps because of it.
In much the same way, I have a cyber friend—someone I’ve never met, but who is as real to me as my college friend, who crosses my mind unexpectedly, makes me smile or, perhaps more importantly at the moment, makes me give myself a quick kick in the pants. (And trust me, that’s not an easy trick to get this old horse to try!) This friend is wise, and thinks as I do—realizes, as I do, that others suffer more, have far greater burdens and trudge onward, with wit, smiles, and incredible courage.
The problem with me is not my failure to recognize the inherent beauty of life, nor do I really think my way should be easier than anyone else’s. I can be supportive, can genuinely root for others, can be accepting…except now and then. Now and then, I just want to pout. It’s a question of perspective. I wrote a poem about that, about perspective—just don’t know where it is at the moment, which seems symptomatic of this moment in time. Don’t know where it is or why it is, but it’s obviously one of those moments my mom used to call one of my “brown funks.”
And those always ended. Eventually. Yesterday, driving home from the hospital, I amused myself by deciding to keep scissors in the car to cut off those annoying little hospital bracelets. I stopped at Wal-Mart and didn’t buy scissors, but I bought two “thinking of you” cards.” Dalmations, ‘cause I couldn’t find an Arabian and either tulips or violets. Thought I’d send two people who mean the world to me word I was almost through pouting.
Then I found the e-mail—from a college friend who always writes everything long hand and doesn’t even have my e-mail address—and a new blog from my cyber friend, with the smile—and the gentle kick—I needed.
Already looked up submission information on my next writing project. Hugged my grandkids, and remembered my mother with love, not guilt or pain. Because most of us are okay, or soon will be, if we let ourselves. Today, I finally found the path back, as I always have, thanks to friends.
Faced with the truth, sweet or bitter, we’re never really alone, either. Thank God for friends.
