Friday, May 13, 2011


I still think about you, friend, you know. Quite often.
Am I the only one?

Ah, but you've moved on. I know, I know... and you're happy. How could I ever grudge you that? I couldn't. That's really what I wanted for you, after all. And I'm glad.

But can anyone tell me what it means to let go? I never loved you in a romantic way, regardless of how my words sound... but I chose you. I decided to be the best friend to you that I could. I comforted, counseled, encouraged... I followed you wherever you ran, ran, ran away to hide - remember? I wouldn't leave you alone, even when you told me to. You thanked me for that, once, twice - a few times. You tore me in the chase, but the wounds healed with those words.

But you ran where I couldn't follow. You held up one hand to stop me in my tracks, stared at me for a moment, and stepped through the door.
I waited outside. I could hear your voice from time to time - no, all the time. But rarely talking to me.
I looked in your window - I knocked at your door. I invited you to come out - if only to sit on the doorstep; to share the smells, the sounds, the sights, for a moment only. But I obeyed - I never went in. You saw me, you smiled... you looked away.

I brought a gift you'd said you wanted - many times, remember? It was not an easy gift, but I was happy to give it. I delighted in giving it. I would do it again.
But your eyes were full of the gift of another, and the light of mine was overshadowed. I don't blame you at all - his was the greater. And you were happy. How could I ever grudge you that? I couldn't. That's really what I wanted for you, after all. And I'm glad.

But how could my heart still hurt? I never left myself that open. Did I?
Or is this how a heart always feels when it has been replaced, then forgotten? I've never lost a friend like this - is this what it's like? Gentle scars, with gentle pain, in gentle persistence...
How did I do this to myself? What have I done?

You were more to me than I told you. You cared - that was all I asked for. You thought of me - that was all I needed. I didn't tell you correctly then how much you meant - I tried to guard you, protect you. I'm a novice, though, and my hands were rough, and you didn't understand, and I failed.

Now, you are under the protection of another. I can no longer tell you these things.

But I chose you, friend. I have not forgotten. I no longer look in the windows, or knock at the doors... but I pass by your gate every day. Watching and waiting - should you need me again, as you used to.

Then, when that happens... I must tell you no.
But that's what friends are for.

Because, while I never told you... I agreed to a pinky promise.
God help me, I'll never break it.

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