Sometimes, all it takes is a few words, and your world gets a little bigger. A little brighter. A little happier.
A couple of days ago, I’d been thinking a lot about a friend I used to have. I say “used to have” because I’d gotten all high and mighty about something–and to be fair, he’d been kind of a dick, too–and ended our friendship. We’d met on Facebook and enjoyed a lot of interaction there, but there had also been emails, texts, calls, and one face-to-face meeting that had been a happy one for both of us. I’d enjoyed his sharp mind and wit, the wordplay we both savored, and his insight and charm. I guess he liked me, too.
I regretted ending the friendship almost instantly , and thought about it quite a bit over the years since but didn’t have the nerve to do anything about it until the other night. I sent him a note via Facebook, said I was sorry and I’d removed that stick I’d had up my butt and maybe it’d be nice if he’d consider reconnecting, although I wouldn’t blame him if he said no.
He said yes. He also said he was sorry for the way we’d parted, that he’d thought of me often since, and yeah, let’s give this another shot.
Happy? You bet I am. Who doesn’t benefit from having another friend along the way? The road is a mighty long one if you’re trying to go down it all alone.
Of course, the flip side to this kind of thing is possible rejection. That’s one of my most crippling fears, and one of the stupidest. As badly as I’ve been hurt at times, it hasn’t killed me yet. It’s made me stronger, given time. Better. Wiser, maybe. More empathetic, I’d hope. It’s a risk worth taking, because the alternative is never knowing. Never speaking the truth. Never opening your heart. Never allowing the miracle of friendship and kinship and companionship into your life.
And as fumbling and half-assed and back-handed as you may be, words are just about the only way you have to communicate. Sure, you can grunt and bang rocks at each other all you want, but it’s not very satisfying in the end. I’ll be the first to admit that I lack verbal communication skills. I can write the hell out of something, but speaking it? I just about pee myself, it’s so painful. But I keep trying, and that’s the point I’m trying to make here. I fumble and mumble and say the wrong damn thing and I keep trying. Some day, some golden, perfect day, I’ll get it right. Until then? I’ll keep trying. I’m stubborn that way.