For a very long time - ten years, fifteen? - I was very close to a dear friend who decided, for reasons not entirely clear to me, to end our friendship. I apologized for anything I might have done to upset her and offered both to talk about it, and/or to take her to dinner with the promise that I wouldn't talk about it. Whatever she wanted. But she was unresponsive. After several months, and many tries to right the situation, I could only give up. The ship of friendship sank, even though I think of her, sadly, every day..
I used to travel more than I do now. Age has taken its toll and traveling is not as easy as it used to be. Further, I'm very fortunate to have been to most of the places in the world I wanted to see (and photograph) - Egypt, Bangkok, Australia, Angkor Watt, Machu Picchu, Rio, Capri, India, and many more - so my burning desire to go, go, go has flagged, and 2013 is the first year I have not been to some exotic place in the world. On each of my trips, as well as on holidays, like Christmas, and on each of her birthdays, I searched to find a heart I could give to my friend, as a symbol of our long friendship. It might be a paper weight, or a little ceramic box, nothing too expensive (although always good), just a token and reminder of how I felt about her. She must have at least a dozen. I never knew what she did with them. It didn't matter. The gift is always for the giver. Still, even after she ended our friendship, I would see hearts on my travels that I thought she might like, but didn't purchase them. What would be the point?
Today, in getting out my meager decorations for Christmas - meager is just the way I like it; the season, which I find increasingly uncomfortable, can this way come and go in a flash - I opened the box that contains a few grand ornaments for a tree, special ones that I've collected, or that friends have given me. Among them has always been a huge glass heart, six inches or so long, resplendent in brilliant red, that I've invariably placed somewhere in my home during this season and carefully wrapped in cushioning tissue paper for the next year. But this morning, and despite my efforts at preservation, I found a huge piece of the heart mysteriously broken off, as though the left atria had wanted to separate from the rest. I couldn't help but think of my former friend and of our ancient friendship, now also broken. There seemed no reason to keep the broken heart. I tossed it into the trash.
Stay tuned.
I used to travel more than I do now. Age has taken its toll and traveling is not as easy as it used to be. Further, I'm very fortunate to have been to most of the places in the world I wanted to see (and photograph) - Egypt, Bangkok, Australia, Angkor Watt, Machu Picchu, Rio, Capri, India, and many more - so my burning desire to go, go, go has flagged, and 2013 is the first year I have not been to some exotic place in the world. On each of my trips, as well as on holidays, like Christmas, and on each of her birthdays, I searched to find a heart I could give to my friend, as a symbol of our long friendship. It might be a paper weight, or a little ceramic box, nothing too expensive (although always good), just a token and reminder of how I felt about her. She must have at least a dozen. I never knew what she did with them. It didn't matter. The gift is always for the giver. Still, even after she ended our friendship, I would see hearts on my travels that I thought she might like, but didn't purchase them. What would be the point?
Today, in getting out my meager decorations for Christmas - meager is just the way I like it; the season, which I find increasingly uncomfortable, can this way come and go in a flash - I opened the box that contains a few grand ornaments for a tree, special ones that I've collected, or that friends have given me. Among them has always been a huge glass heart, six inches or so long, resplendent in brilliant red, that I've invariably placed somewhere in my home during this season and carefully wrapped in cushioning tissue paper for the next year. But this morning, and despite my efforts at preservation, I found a huge piece of the heart mysteriously broken off, as though the left atria had wanted to separate from the rest. I couldn't help but think of my former friend and of our ancient friendship, now also broken. There seemed no reason to keep the broken heart. I tossed it into the trash.
Stay tuned.
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