Delicate like Spiderwebs

I have a new friend.

She’s funny and sexy and smart and articulate, she’s sassy and confident and beautiful.

And when I grow up, I want to be her.

I’d like her to know that.

But she’s a new friend, and I’m not sure if it’s my place.

A few weeks ago, something huge happened in her life.

Something that most of us will never experience. Something that has left a huge, gaping hole in her heart.

Something that leaves unanswered questions and baffled bewilderment and the heaviness of guilt, even though logically, there is no guilt to be felt.  Something that rocked the very core of her soul.

I want to tell her how strong she is. I want to tell her that she is still so funny and smart and amazing and beautiful and that somehow, I really believe this very huge thing that has happened to her has increased her capacity to live, learn and love. I want her to know that in time, the bruises will fade and scars will mend. I want her to know that crying at memories and feeling rawness and anger and is absolutely just fine, even though the situation is far from fine.

It’s pretty fucked.

But she’s a new friend, and I don’t know if it’s my place.

I want her to know that I’m there, and there’s no apology needed, and that laughing or crying or swearing or blubbering or a combination of all the above at the same time is perfectly acceptable. I want her to know that she can yell, or scream, or question – endlessly and repetitively if need be – and then come back and do it all over again, anytime she needs to. If it gets too much it’s fine to drink jelly shots and dance barefoot on the tables without guilt.

I want her to know that people love her and care about her and are there for her because they want to be, not because they have to be.

But she’s a new friend, and I don’t know if it’s my place.

So I’ll hold her hand in my heart and listen, I’ll hold her secrets to my chest and protect, and foremost, I’ll hold her friendship – this new, delicate friendship – tenderly and carefully and I’ll treasure it.

Because she’s a new friend, and that’s my place.

11 thoughts on “Delicate like Spiderwebs

  1. How could I be lucky enough to have such an amazing new friend like you. That is so beautiful and I feel very loved and yes it is your place. Thank you H xxx

  2. You are the best friend anyone could have, for a shoulder to cry on or to listen to a tantrum. Big hugs to your new friend and I hope all is well, do ask and do hold out your hand for the unexpected when the flood gates are opened.

  3. Such a beautiful post.

    I suffer from true-friend deficiency. I don’t know why. I don’t cheat or steal or lie, but still, I have no really close friends. I yearn for a friend at times. When I meet someone I think could be the “one” I try so hard not to scare them off. I don’t smother, I am there for them, I have my own life as well so don’t want to live in their pockets. And yet, they don’t seem to stay. I wish I knew why.

    But your new friend will know you were there when she needed someone to be there. She won’t forget that.

    I hope she gets to smile again soon.

Something to say?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s