Musings on Friendship

“Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.” — Albert Camus

Last weekend an old friend came to see me.

May be able to visit this weekend or next, read the text.

The two of us met in college when the world seemed a far stranger and more delicate place.

Together we stumbled through four central New York winters, unruly roommates, and wrestled with a youth that seemed full of opportunity yet viciously fleeting.

In sharing those ups, downs, but mostly in-betweens, I like to think we helped one another cultivate some character, and even a bit of grit.

So it confused me when my first reaction to his text was one of uneasiness.

But why? I wondered.

I’d finally invested in some furniture after 6 months of living like a hermit, so it wasn’t the lack of furnishings that troubled me.

I didn’t have anything pressing to do over the weekend so it wasn’t about negating some to-do list.

And not only had the two of us not seen each other in months, but we were always better off when we did.

What was my problem?

I finally figured out his company was a threat to my solitude. My “me time” would be shelved, my musings voiced, and my frailties have to be exposed.

In all my isolated strolls, meanderings through book stores, and sitting alone in empty movie houses, I failed to question whether too much seclusion was a bad thing.

Thankfully, my friend seemed hellbent on visiting. And so early Saturday morning he hopped on a plane and made his way north.

When I pulled up to the arrival curb I saw that familiar lanky frame I’d first crossed paths with in a Syracuse University dormitory. Some things had changed like a few inches on the belt line, and maybe a few grays peppered in his once black mane.

But some things hadn’t like the aloofness I saw in full form as he stared blankly into his touchscreen without noticing I’d pulled the car up to where he was standing.

He’d make a terrible criminal, I thought.

When I hopped out to greet him something familiar happened; a smile spread wide across my face.

I was happy to see my friend. In fact, the moment he jumped in the passenger seat I realized I needed to.

For the next several hours we walked what felt like the span of the Sudan. We took a long stroll around the lake before making our way to the redwoods. Strangely, neither our feet nor one another’s company grew stale.

We talked easily as we always had but this time instead of bemoaning some girl, an exam, or worrying about what life after college entailed we spoke of dreams, both broken and realized, the difficulties of sharing your life with someone, and aging parents.

There were also plenty of moments of quiet. We walked long stretches without uttering a word, taking solace in how silence could actually deepen one’s appreciation for one another rather than stifle it.

That evening, I played tourist in my hometown as I joined him at a restaurant that was both wildly popular and somehow a stone’s throw from my apartment; two things I didn’t know until he arrived.

“You down to see a movie?” I asked.

“Sure!” he beamed as if he’d been told he won a sweepstake. Maybe he had in some small way.

As much as he loved his wife and being a father, I could tell even a respite from the ones we love most needs to be put on the calendar from time to time.

We arrived at the theater early, catching the last few acts of a talent show before the film. When the movie finally started, I could tell it was the first time in a long time he’d finally allowed himself to relax.

True friendship I realized, is an invitation to be our most authentic selves without fear of ridicule or reprisal.

I thought back on all the times in my own life where the darkness seemed to loom as far as the eye could see. Invariably the light, however slight, was ushered in by a friend; someone who’d stuck by my side not despite my frailties, but in some perverse way, because of them.

I remember phoning a buddy incessantly after a romantic relationship of mine had failed. I called at all hours of the day even though I knew he had his own problems, that he was also trying to get his footing in the world, and that when I called he was usually tired after a long day of work.

Still, he picked up every single call.

He’d listen to me rehash the same thing over and over without judgment or haste. And when he finally spoke he knew just the right thing to say…

“I know you’re having a tough time right now but in order to know great joy in life we must also know great pain.”

Shortly after that I started to get back on my feet.

When it was finally time for my friend to head back home he thanked me for my hospitality. Strangely, I felt it was me who needed to thank him.

We both silently knew it’d be some time before our paths would cross, and when they did it would unlikely be as unfettered as the day we’d just spent. The busyness of life would once again take hold drowning out any semblance of quiet clarity.

Still, we had a day to be reminded that true friendship is another form of brotherhood, of sisterhood — of family.

That in its truest form, friendship is the most reliable and unwavering form of love.

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