I ignored her calls three times. I knew why she was calling and knew she needed me then but I couldn’t find it in me to give… Right now, Guilt pounds on my door but like I did my friend, I am ignoring Her too. When do we say, ‘Okay, this is it. I can’t. I just can’t help you,’ and it’s perfectly okay?

I will call her tomorrow. I will be her friend then. Tonight, I am selfish. And to be honest, I don’t like that about me.


My oldest friends have been with me for 15 years – there are only two. But these two darlings are precious.

There’s the Texan Baby: yoga teacher, dancer, blogger, kitchen goddess and fast becoming a very good photographer. She takes whatever news I give her with a wonderful mix of empathy, love and a severe lack of discrimination. Married with no kids yet, she lives in… you guessed it: Houston.

Then there’s the Queen: highly sought after video editor, amazingly gifted with what she does, she is a person who has the ability to listen without prejudice. Living alone with the occasional lover, she is in (sigh)… London.

Only problem with these two darlings is that they live in different continents, different time zones. Still, we keep in touch and I’m not surprised when I receive the odd call for help from them, nor are they when they see me online with a whine in my words. I love how we pick up from where we left off months ago, when we do meet up. There’s no holding back in what we share, we know we keep all things private. We are able to be vulnerable with each other. We know we can’t solve the problems but we can be there.

It’s priceless.

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

– Henri J.M. Nouwen (The Road To Daybreak)


Tomorrow, I’ll be a friend. Tonight, I think I just need that personal space.


Random note: Funny how the new day begins at the darkest hour – midnight.


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