Fragments of My Life - Wandering Free

People say it's hard to make friends as we get older. I disagree. Wherever I go, I've been fortunate enough to make some truly wonderful connections.

Becky sometimes teases me and says, "Oh, you like everyone."

True. There is something to like in just about everyone. When we connect, I try to treat acquaintances the way I'd like to be treated. Therefore, it's no secret why we stay in touch. I make others feel good about themselves.

Except when I don't. Cause sometimes, I won't.

But most peeps appreciate the kindness and consideration.

Plus - never underestimate the power of a quality rack and winning smile. Wins 'em over every time.

However, with the exception of a precious few, many friends sort of blow in returning the good vibes. I'll repeat myself - I try to treat others the way I'd like to be treated.

I don't treat them that way to get it back, though. It'd be nice, but that's just not why I do it.

Good thing, too. Cause I'd be sh*t out of luck.

So, they keep in sporadic touch because I'm a delight. Fine. But why do *I* keep in touch with *them*?

This past weekend, what with all the hunger-induced introspection goin' on - I couldn't help but ponder why I reach out to so many people who - although the affection is there in limited doses - have trouble consistently returning my affections, good wishes, etc.?

Could such folks, who swear they're "just busy', be considered real friends? Some might say no. I say they are and refuse to cut them loose. I cannot, will not, utter the words, "Take off, hoser." I won't stop emailing or even calling once in a while.

Unless they ask nicely.

If I see something that reminds me of them - I'll let them know. I remember birthdays and special events. This is part of my charm.

My gang of whack jobs are important to me - all 900 of them - for various reasons. We played together as kids. Or we played together as adults. At one point or another, he or she taught me something. We share memories, both good and bad. In the hustle of everyday life, they're still out there breathing and living and I want to them to know they're in my thoughts. Even if it's only once or twice a year.

They're in. Forever.

Letting them know I care makes them feel good. And that, in turn, makes me feel good.

So maybe that's why I keep in touch with them.

There's another reason, too.

They make me appreciate those "precious few" even more than I already do. The man who sleeps next to me every night, the best friend who can read my facial expressions from across a room, siblings and parents who put up with me, friends who email to check in, relatives who reach out, and loved ones back home who remember the time of day I was born or who just "call to chat".

They shine brighter than all the rest.

My heart is big enough for close and distant friends. But my warmest thoughts and devotion are reserved for those who make time to show their love for *me*.

And this seems like a good time to say thank you.