A Road Less Travelled

This isn’t really about the Burning Plum. Or maybe it is. It depends on how you look at it. Thinking about last night I realized something once again. I have friends. In the plural, even. And not just acquaintances who are called friends out of politeness.

Any conversation which involves me saying the words “deer spoor” or “Ny-Quil on ice cream” had better be a conversation with real friends.

Any night when I tell a story that’s only half finished, with my throat closing up from sheer nervousness, there had better be friends there to listen to it.

Any meal is a lot better when there are friends there.

I have friends. I can’t seem to find the words to explain why this is so mysterious to me. I just don’t understand how or why it happened. But somehow it did.

I have friends.