What of the Friendship Bracelets?

This morning my artist got up early and did the dishes because the plumber was coming. Silly girl, the plumber is coming tomorrow morning. It’s been so many days at home alone that it’s getting difficult for her to distinguish a Monday from a Sunday from a birthday cake.

Without a better plan, she headed back to bed and eventually dozed off and that at least took her through to lunch time. A little disoriented at sleeping so late, she came to realise it was Sunday and for a moment she was filled with hope that perhaps someone was coming to visit. She hoped that maybe one of those people, the ones who always say things like “We should catch up” and “I’ll stop by and visit” had decided to make good on their word. She got up quickly and found her phone to check for messages. And there it was. That screen. The one with the time and the symbols and the picture of the one that really matters. The one that just doesn’t light up with messages like it used to.

My artist has had some really good friends. Fun friends; close friends; friends forever. She was always really good at staying in touch with friends, even when life shoved them around different bends. She helped when they were in trouble. She really helped a lot of people. She doesn’t know where they all went. I mean, it’s not like the friendships ended, they just don’t understand how it is for her now. They don’t understand the solitude and they don’t understand the pain. They don’t understand what happens to a person when their independence is snatched. They don’t understand that taking a couple of minutes to send a text or make a call or for the great God of effort, coming to visit, would make all the difference in the world to her. Just a little company while she waits at the mercy of her failing shell.

A couple of people have been there to help and she is grateful for everything they do. It’s not fair that she should need so much from people that she can’t give back. To be with people is to be a burden and to be without them is to be painfully lonely. She knows life doesn’t work that way but she can’t stop trying to figure out how to win……

Journal Comments

  • Roger Sampson
  • sharon gottschall
  • Rella