on friendship
Tuesday, February 2, 2010 at 9:20PM Just over a year ago, I was in my garage working on the last house touch-ups before Father Bird's family came for Christmas. It was a steel-gray day, and I was bundled up against the cold, cutting lattice for the screened porch with my circular saw.
I didn't hear my closest friend's car driving carefully down my long driveway. She was out of the car and coming toward the garage before I saw her. I put down the saw and came out to meet her. She was leaving for Christmas and I was going to take care of her chickens and bring in her newspaper while she was gone.
"Here are the keys," she said. "The chicken feed is in a bin in the garage. And, when we get back from the holidays...we'll be moving away." Just like that. Something about a new job, in a faraway state, and I murmured congratulations and turned back to cutting lattice with a throat that was suddenly thicker than before. The sawdust must have gotten in there and made it feel tight. Yes. That was certainly it.
I know that there are people who have many friends. I'd hazard that most halfway-sociable people have many friends. I am, and I suppose I'll always be, a one-friend person. That's not to say I don't have many acquaintances, but very few of them reach "dear friend" status. I do not know why this is. How lovely would it be to have two people that you could call when you feel a migraine coming on, to say, "I don't know where my children are, and would you please come take them home with you for the night?" and know that they would come? I don't suppose I'll find out, because for some reason friendship for me is a serial proposition, not parallel. There seems to be room in my heart for only one dear friend at a time.
It must be exhausting to be friend to a one-friend person. I suppose if you didn't know it wouldn't be as worrisome, but can you imagine the pressure that's placed on a friend if she knows she's all you've got? What if I do not come when you have a migraine? Who else is there to come, after all? A one-friend friend cannot fail.
When my beloved friend moved away a year ago, I carried a private ache around with me for weeks. It felt a little like losing a tooth used to feel. I knew that before long another tooth would grow in its place, that I'd be able to go on chewing with my other teeth in the meantime, but now, in the moments after the tooth was lost, there was a raw spot, a little bleeding. I wanted to keep my mouth shut so no one would see, would ask, would poke around and sympathize. I wanted to nurse my hurt all alone, to take surreptitious glances in the mirror to see how the loss had changed me.
Soon, as I knew would happen, another friend did grow into that spot, and the bleeding, tender place became a quiet memory. I had not forgotten my first friend, though she was far away, but my new friend was here, was standing in my one-friend-sized friend slot, and oh, how I loved having her there. She was the one I could call when my day was going haywire, and she would steady me. She called me when things were nuts at her house, and it was wonderful to lean, and provide a place for leaning. Sometimes I felt a little worried that perhaps I ought to reach out, ought to include more people in my little closed circle. I told myself I didn't have time, but I'm not sure it wasn't just because I didn't have room. Why, after all, should I bother, when that space was filled so well?
And then there was a day when I had to say to my second friend what my first friend had said to me. After everything we had helped each other through, I had to cause her a pain that I knew I wouldn't be around to help her bear. I had to reach over to one of my most loved people, and knock out one of her teeth.
I knew how it felt to have a dear friend leave, having just been through it a year before. I hated, so badly, doing it to someone else. But I did not know, or didn't remember, how it felt to leave everyone, friend and acquaintance, that I had known, the entire network of people whose smiles, encouragement, and friendship had lined and padded our lives. If I had had one tooth knocked out when my friend moved away, now I've lost a couple of rows at the same time. I still have the molars, my husband, children, parents, siblings, who will be in my life the same amount no matter where I roam, but all the rest are gone. I can write them, I can call them, but for everyday chewing, they are lost.
And, oddly, I find that this time I don't want them to grow back. An ugly cynical streak suddenly shows itself, something I didn't know was there. I feel the impulse to keep my mouth completely shut, to hope that my gums grow hard and tough, strong enough to chew on their own, without the need for the painful growing (and possible, eventual, inevitable loss) of new teeth. I don't want anyone to look until I'm sure I'm fine on my own, and can do it all by myself.
But at the same time I find it can't be done. A knock at the door brought a plate of cookies, borne in the hand of a new friend. A concern for my family was expressed while I looked into the eyes of someone who was, suddenly, no longer a stranger. A shared laugh, as welcome as an arm around my shoulders, poured sunshine into my heart and made me open my toothless mouth, just a little, in a smile.
Yes, another set of friends will grow in the places left empty by the ones I've loved and lost. Already I feel them growing there. Some will be lost again, in their turn. And I wonder. Does this cycle, the growth, and loss, and regrowth, leave us, each time, a little stronger, or do we bleed the same each time? Are we more, or less, willing to reach out and bring new people into our lives and hearts the more time goes on?
Eventually, I know, I will have another strong set of working teeth, and be able to chew, with their help, whatever I need to. But I don't know about that one space. I'm more reluctant to fill it than the others, remembering how much I love the friends who have stood there. How long will it be empty, and will it be a surprise when I discover that it no longer is?
No matter how long it takes, that is a tooth worth waiting for. And in the meantime, one by one, the everyday chewing teeth are slowly growing back in. Before long, whether I want to or not, I'm going to have a beautiful smile.
~MB~
Reader Comments (12)
I know how you feel.....true friends are hard to find (and especially hard when you are a one friend person). Just so you know, you left some empty spots here as well. :-) Just so you know you are missed too!! (And we miss your molars....tell Katie, Thomas, Sammy & Gabe HI for us!!!)
Beautiful post. You are a blogging inspiration. I'm a rather independent cuss and don't have many (or any) "lean on" friends. But you've made me want to find some. Too bad it's not as easy as it was in first grade: "Do you want to be my friend? Good. We're best friends."
You reminded me how I felt when you went off and got married.
Wonderful post. I really can't think of anything more to say than that. It's just perfect in it's expression and sentiment.
i'm a one friend person too. but maybe it is better to have one real relationship...i don't know. sometimes it does seem easier the other way. poopy.
Well, when I need a good cry I know where to turn. Sadly, I haven't grown back any teeth to lean on when I finish the good cry (oh, come on, it's good imagery. Try it.) It has been nearly unbearable to know that life on the farm would go on, chickens would peck and lay, children would get older and grow up, gardens would be planted and harvested, hard times would come and good times would be had without me. I've been gumming my way through the year, looking forward to settling down enough to maybe try to make some friends out of the strangers around me, and I'm so glad your neighbors greeted you with cookies. Here's to new growth - even if it seems impossible and unwanted.
I'm a multiple friend person. (Probably because I'm such an extrovert.) But I still find myself feeling the pain of life changes or saying goodbye, and then vowing for a time to never again make myself vulnerable in the same way.
The has actually happened to me recently. Not because anyone moved, but just because some of my previously close friends shifted in their lives just a little, and suddenly were less connected to me. It has been interesting to watch the Lord bring comfort and companionship to me in the moments where my heart is lonely and sad.
I also was very aware of what a blessing it was when we moved to NC and I had a friend IMMEDIATELY. A woman in the ward with comparably aged children who's best friend had just moved. Because I felt friendless for a long time when we lived in Idaho I knew that having a wonderful new friend right away was unusual.
I finally decided that there must be some lesson of eternal consequence here; there are simply too many painful goodbyes that happen during our lives for it to be random or meaningless. I sure don't know what they are, though!
I have moved too many times myself, and never have I seen the pain of telling close friends described so aptly. Reaching over to knock out her tooth. Yes.
I have read and loved your blog for a long time but never ventured out of lurkdom to say hello until now. Since your move, I've wondered where in SoCal you are...we've been in San Diego for a little over three years now, after a heartwrenching departure from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. San Diego grew on us very quickly, people and place alike. Welcome to this part of the world. :)
Hi, Melissa. Welcome to my blog, and thank you for the welcome to your corner of the world! We're in San Diego North County, and more than that I dare not say in public. I grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains and will always yearn for them, I expect. Thank you for the compliment. I enjoy your blog as well!
~E~
You are such a good writer. I love reading your blog. Thanks for sharing!
I'm learning tonight that you and I are so much alike. Maybe if we lived in the same place, we'd be each otther's one friend?
Oh, Grace, I'm certain we would. I learn so much from your gentle, thoughtful way of mothering, by way of your blog. Thank heaven for the internet, where people who would otherwise never meet can touch each other!