A Note on FriendshipWhit Honea
“Why?” I asked. “What happened?”
“He won’t play with me,” he said. “He told me he was my best friend, but that was a lie.”
We were driving down a long and winding road. It was a steep fall straight to my gut.
“Just because a friend is playing with someone else doesn’t mean he isn’t your friend, too.”
I saw movement in the backseat, but it was his brother trying to position himself for a better look at the rocks we were passing.
Then, “I told him I didn’t want to be his friend.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He said that was good. He said that he lied about being my best friend.”
“I don’t believe that he meant it,” I said. “People say mean things when they have their feelings hurt. It happens all the time.”
“He hurt my feelings first,” he answered.
“And then you said something mean,” I replied. “Mean words have a way of spreading.”
His brother yawned and fiddled with his backpack. Then our street was there, where it always is, waiting around the corner. As I turned I could see them both, each leaning against a window, one looking far and full of wonder, the other looking farther still, and his eyes were met in his reflection.
Then I showed them the spot where I had seen a vulture earlier in the day.
“A real vulture?” they asked.
And the car filled with conversation.
“May I use that?” I asked. He handed me the note that I had, just moment before, found him writing.
“Because I want to share it,” I said.
“I’m proud of you,” I told him. “And I always am.”
Whit Honea can be found writing about whatever he feels like at his personal site Honea Express (Honea sounds like pony) and DadCentric. If you’re really bored you can follow him on the Twitter or Pinterest (his opinions are his own and do not reflect those of Babble or most rational people).
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