When I went to the Clarion writers' workshop a very long time ago, one of the organizers stood up as we were gathered around the proverbial campfire and said, "You will make friends here that will last you a lifetime."
I was thrilled. I wanted friends that I would have for a lifetime. And I mean more than the lifetime of your average stray cat.
Up until the time I was about eight, I had friends everywhere. Nobody bullied me. In fact, I am sorry to say that I joined in with a bunch of girls to bully another girl whose mom was fat. (Fate can be cruel, can't it?) I had a best friend. I had neighborhood friends. After I got sick (and fat!), I had Little Wayne (no, not a rap star, just a short white kid) who stood up for me against any evildoers.
Then the color line was broken in the neighborhood and it all got chipped away. When I got to the new neighborhood, I started school in February. Everyone in school had been together since kindergarten. I was fat and I was weird. I liked to read. One day after I'd been walking in the woods, a tick fell out of my hair and I stood up screaming.
Yeah. Not the most popular girl in school.
So when I did find a friend, I clung to her for dear life. I was a serial friend. When one got tired of me hanging onto her, I found another one. Basically, I would hang out with anyone who would have me, including my sixth grade friend Bev, whose older sister was always bringing home unknown pills wrapped in aluminum foil. Bev offered these to me one day and I said no. And she was still my friend. Because nobody else would be her friend.
I wish I could say I've been friends with the people from Clarion since then. I regularly call Emma or she calls me. One of the others was close but seems to have drifted away. Her friend-making abilities leave me in awe. I get the hint from her - she hasn't phoned me in years. Whenever we talk, it's a great conversation, but I'm the one who made the call.
Because I am so bad at friends, I don't make much of an effort anymore.
The Speechifier officers had a meeting a couple of weeks ago. I got there early with the Prince Consort and Queen Bee. We were talking. My phone rang, I excused myself and when I missed Emma's call, said, "Sheesh, my one friend in the world, Prince Consort, and you make me miss the call." I put the phone back in my purse and it rang again. Emma will sometimes call again to leave a message. I hauled out my phone again and saw it was the Prince Consort. "One friend in the world," he said, laughing, and so did the Queen Bee.
I think my definition of friend must be different from other people's. Mine is probably stuck back in third grade. It has an element of the old "all for one, one for all" spirit to it, which is probably as outdated as an eight-track cassette.
It's hard for me to accept that people move on. And that they move on without me. In some cases, run away without me.
And yes, I get lonely sometimes. And sometimes, when I make friends, it's inappropriately quickly. No wonder why they run away...
Friends are mostly in the past. I seem to have a way of alienating people without even being aware that I'm doing it. So best not to make the effort because I will inevitably put a foot wrong. And once more, I'll watch that person walk away from me.
