Friendship; a vessel, that carries friends. So many people in the world, and we meet and then travel off – sometimes back and forth, and sometimes just forth. We value shiny-awesome bits of one another, and fold them in, and cast them off, as we go. Organized chaos.
What makes a friend? A sly, nefarious comment dropped at the exactly right moment, a general likeness, or a togetherness through circumstance? Kindness, honesty, respect. Knowing where you start and end, and where the other person starts and ends, and nurturing a graceful spaciousness there? Yes. And other things, too many to fathom, forged one at a time through trial and season.
In the end, a weathered friendship is something to behold – a thing that sustains, doesn’t crumble in the melee, and just shores up more and more over time. More and more, over time. More grace, more spaciousness, and more room to move.
I, for one, believe in the organized chaos of friendship. I believe that in the stretch and strain, space is made, and I know that sometimes people just move forth. But, I feel like maybe it’s really a pirate ship we’re talking about, because I know many an audacious pirate, and the ship just keeps holding them all.