With Friends at Bay
I have the most unusual thing to report. To all of those special people who fill the void of affection in my life, I am glad to have you back. You might not know it but many aspects of my life suffered in your absence and the scene of my familiar social faces dwindled into oblivion. My mother and father, my closest friend and workplace ally, my housemate and landlord and even the neighbours upstairs and next door, each took to the river with their raft and sought a change in climate and ideology, and it ultimately came to them; for they say in the breath of small things come the most sacred things.
Whether it is some strange act of karmic cleansing or a subconscious hiding the old trail meandering footfalls in the snow, in some fashion everybody has returned to my life after leaving me without contact to them and rendering me vulnerable and somewhat disillusioned. For their return I am grateful and at peace. We never truly know how much we depend on those around us until they have departed, and we never really know how fragile at heart our friends and family are until they are in a dire time of need.
This afternoon his visit brought a change in the summer current passing through the window, and the energy in the room shifted dramatically upward. A familar face from the elder crew returned to his post with a renewed smile and a rusty accent from several weeks out of sight. There were arguments and differences that set us apart and oftentimes we drew a line on the ground demarcating my independence and your freedom.
Dimitris’s abrupt leaving for the forgiving shores of Greece brought solace to the shoulders that bore the weight of the world and more, but for those harrowing weeks the office was lone and repetitive. Work was given to me without credit and appreciation and the days seemed to stretch endlessly onward without a strong sense of purpose guiding them.
I promise that I tried my best to prevent myself from jumping up and down in a fit of absolute sanguinity when he walked into the office early this morning; instead in that gentlemanly way I shook his hand firmly the same way I had when he left and offered to buy his coffee the next morning. He laughed heartily and announced, “That’s his way of saying ‘don’t leave me, I need you to be here’.
It might be slightly neurotic to say that his cologne clung to the air and nonchalant ethos infected us again even hours after he declared that he is officially returning tomorrow, but I don’t mind. It’s a learning lesson about appreciating what we have in the present moment and how to cope with less.
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