a friend for thanksgiving…
the phone rang and woke me from a nap. two angry cats later, i had it in hand and could answer. “hello…?” voice thick with sinus and sleep, i sounded gruffer than usual.
“hi there. sorry i didn’t get back in touch earlier, but there was shopping to do and i get to babysit a thawing turkey tonight and of course tomorrow is cooking and all that. but on the good side, we do get to eat it after it puts us through all this crap.”
we both giggled. eating what bothers you has been something of a long-standing joke. we both believe there is deep mystery, meaning, and power in cannabalism… well, so we say.
i swear we are connected. no sooner than those words were between us than i was thinking of turkey on the beach or serving at the shelter and the weight of solitude was descending and my friend says, “heyyyyy… you know… you should come over tomorrow.”
“i can’t. the movers finally decided they are going to deliver my things after all. they’ll be here tomorrow between 12 and 4.” a laugh, a surprised gasp, and an inquiry, “they’re DELIVERING on thanksgiving?!?!?”
“yeah. go figure. mebbe they felt sorry for me sitting on a tile floor for the holidays, ya think?” more giggles. then, suddenly, solemness, “hey. i was meaning to ask you… i know your situation, and i can assume where it has you at the moment. you need anything? because if ya do and ya don’t ask me, i’m gonna be really pissed.”
i’m silent. it is hard for me to ask for help. always has been. but they know this. which is a blessing. they continue, “look. you’re coming over tomorrow. even if it is after the movers. we’ll give you turkey sleeping sickness like you’re damn well supposed to have and then you’re going to tell me what you need and we’re going to make sure you have it.”
they paused briefly, “oh, and no lowballing either.” i laughed, “oh man. you know me too well.” they chuckled, “yes, i do. you’ll tell me you need $199.99 and won’t tell me that doesn’t include food.”
a pause, and then, “so stop worrying. i can feel you worrying. stop it. you’re not going to be alone for thanksgiving. you’re not going to be broke, and there is at least one person who cares enough to do more than say the words. ok?”
broke. me. down. on the spot. both for knowing and for remembering and for recent hurts that in comparison and contrast underscored so much. tears thick and fast and so thankful i could only croak, “i have missed you.”
the reply was tender, filled with sincerity, and instant, “i love you. i’ve missed you. and i care.”
the cell phone died at that precise moment. left me laughing into the echoy empty of this, my new place. i know my friend was laughing, too. most for the timing… and also because everything that either of us could want to say or that might need to be said… was.
happy thanksgiving, folks.