The co-author of one of my most enduring friendships came by today and it got me thinking about what treasures good friends are.
The older you get, the more you seem to appreciate the real value of someone you can call and be your sad/helpless/confused/frustrated self and they’ll recognize a call for help/a tool/ physical labour/a sympathetic ear and come running. That’s not to be taken lightly.
And it reminded me of a poem I’ve always remembered from my Dad’s “Jokes For The John” book! It was pretty racy for my adolescent eyes way back when. Now I just think it’s silly.
Friends may come and friends may go
Friends will peter out, you know
But we’ll be friends through thick and thin
Peter out or peter in.