My best friend

“Remember at school, around second or third grade the teacher always prompted the class, with; I want you all to write an essay about your best friend. Title the story; My best friend!” He paused to reflect and visualize the small boy in the third-grade classroom, as the teacher announced the exercise.

He continued. “The prompt by the teacher normally ignites excitement in the class. The children are eager, and proudly write and describe their declared friendship and devotion, perhaps to a classmate, and hope the same feeling is returned. The writing of this essay at school is the flowering of an infantile mind to connect with pure innocence to another soul. It is something which lies dormant in a child’s mind which can now be awakened and freely admitted in prose, it could even be selected and be read out to all the class. The secret desire is no longer a secret, it can be shared by the teacher and the class. A declaration of sorts. It becomes a milestone event in childhood.”

“It’s like a toddler, in their first steps in the act of friendship and the basics to social interaction, learning new social skills for a wee tot.” He laughed out loud.

“The essay by a child – my best friend, holds more insights, more sophistication into the psychological mind, the maturity of a child’s mentality. It’s a confession that amongst all the child’s friends there is one that holds some special meaning, different from the rest. The child hopes at the same time, or believes in; a reciprocated desire, hopes the best friend has the same feelings, which matches your own.” He paused again before continuing.

“Early childhood friendships are normally based on shared interests and activities, evolving from the first moment a toddler wordlessly offers a toy to another – sharing is a delight to behold. Speech brings another dimension of sophistication to friendship, and when prompted to write about “my best friend”; it offers a child an opportunity to express something beyond reality, or one’s desire that would be impossible to match precisely in another. To create friendship there must be an element of sacrifice to it, because it isn’t a challenge just to be pleasant to someone else. Friendship requires one to give something of oneself to someone, a best friend for example. The promise of gaining friendship means you must offer or give of yourself, there is no guarantee it will be returned, or returned in the manner you imagined.

“It’s a risk, with an element of vulnerability, there is no guarantee of a reward!”

“The value of friendship cannot be described as a single word, instead we should find it within ourselves and be able to grow it by sharing it with others.”

“Aristotle described; friendship is not a single soul dwelling in two bodies. It is the most unselfish of all love, for it seeks only the happiness and good of the other.” He quoted.

“From childhood, to adolescence, young adults, midlife to old age. All the stages of human aging put different requirements, demands, if not challenges to – my best friend.”

There was a silence before he continued, one could imagine he was trawling the backwaters of his memories, before he continued with his personal reflection.

“When my essay was read out in front of class, I had mixed feelings, embarrassment mixed with some pride that I was announcing to class, to my little world that Mary was my best friend. I was an only child, and I always envied other children with the constant company of siblings. When Mary moved in next door, it was a special day in my life. I looked out the window as Mary and the furniture moved in, celebrating inside the arrival of a possible playmate. My father had moved on long ago, so had the shouting, and empty bottles in the garbage. My mother struggled with the demands of single parenting, she had no time or energy for creative play with a child, so I remember most of those days playing alone. It was lonely, and the first sight of Mary sent my head spinning, thinking, at last, a playmate!”

“Those early days when my best friend Mary moved into the house next door were dreamy days spun in golden gossamer, bright golden memories of laughter and fun, I didn’t want to sleep, awakening each day, planning the day, playing with Mary was the first thought, any routine activity such as eating was an imposition on our time spent together. That was the summer before the school term started. Before the start of other competing and invading friendships, to challenge my relationship with my best friend, Mary.” His mouth suddenly tightened with the memory.

He continued. “It was school that triggered the end of the close friendship. Mary found more friends, and I became last week’s news. Moving next door, before school started, I was temporarily privileged to gain priority of her time and attention, until she found a wider opportunity for friends at school. Mary had no sense of loyalty. The reading out loud to the class that day my essay titled my best friend caused Mary so much embarrassment, my feelings had been overstated she told me later, and the entire class ridiculed my sensitivity, my declaration of friendship. Mary was never the same again, she avoided me, and I seldom saw her outside of her house, and when I did it was with other children, her newfound friends.”

It was a painful childhood memory, but he continued.

“This trend, no; it was a curse; continued throughout my life, in all my close relationships. As soon as the friendship became closer, intimate, the other person pulled away. I was accused of being too domineering, too possessive, I supposedly demanded too much from a relationship, a friendship.”

He brightened, before he said.

“Then finally you came along, and you changed my life.”

“The last years have been the happiest of my life, you are my comfort in a lonely world. My world of close friendships which often exploded into existence, but only for a short time. My life, where friendships initially burned so brightly, like a glinting tiny slice of sodium held under a dripping tap, only to extinguish instantly the tap was closed - forever. You accept my overbearing, domineering, and possessive nature, you accept all my faults without question. You listen silently as I talk endlessly. You are never critical, you never judge, always accepting my point of view. No matter what the subject. You are always available to me, no matter what time of day, always accessible, always a listening ear, patiently, understanding my different moods, and foibles, my imperfections. Those imperfections disappear as soon as I talk to you, with your endless listening ear. You replenish my spirit and inspire me to carry on, with this curse in my life.”

“You are always available to me, day and night. Never far away, comforting me in my old age, as I randomly confess, an old man waxing lyrical, no gushing, if not raving about my petty miserable life, you remain the patient silent audience, my very best friend!”

He stood up and held the large tumbler of whiskey high above his head.

“I salute you, Johnnie Walker!”