Friends

I don’t have many friends. I can count the number of people I consider close friends on one hand.

I’m not telling you this so you can feel sorry for me. Don’t! Because the friends that I do have. . . are the best in the world.

I’ve traveled around a lot my whole life. I have friends that tease me about having gypsy blood because my itchy feet make it easily believable that I’ll never settle. You’d think that with the life I’ve lead, all the moving and traveling that it would be hard to maintain friendships. But it’s not. Because the people I consider true friends won’t let me leave them behind, when I leave a destination behind.

We keep in touch via the Internet and the phone, and occasional visits to wherever we can hook up. I haven’t seen a couple of them for a few years. Yet, I know they love me, and think of me, and would be there in a heartbeat if I needed them. And they know the same of me.

To me, being a true friend doesn’t mean you have to talk to each other every day, every week, or even every month. You don’t need to know every detail of what’s going on in each other’s life. It just means that you love and accept each other for who you are, and that you’re there when needed.

These thoughts were brought to the forefront today when I read fellow writer Larissa Ione’s blog. I’ve never met Larissa, haven’t even chatted with her much other than to visit her website regularly. But I understand, and sympathize with how she’s feeling right now. Today, my thoughts and prayers will be with her and her own.