real friends

 REAL FRIENDS

 

Pandemic is a microscope for examining imperfections, some items to which our minds seldom bother to attend.  Defiled and emptied of genuine meaning by Facebook, the word "friend"  meanders in digital spaces.  It pretends.  It seeks a home the current century forbids it to have. I do not permit fakes to live in the neighborhood of my heart.

 

The shameless abuse of "friendship" wounds us.  It necessitates our treasuring the real friends with whom we commune as we comfort one another.  Many of our real friends no longer have material properties.  They exist in the bliss and purity of spirit.

 

Pandemic increases my love for real friends, especially those who have who have sought to heal me  ( or I have tried to heal) for thirty years or more.  Those who have been real friends for less than six years also matter.  The goodness  of friends is beyond price.

 

Thank God, for the microscope and for my real friends who know who they are!   They are.  They do not pretend. They do not abuse me by  acknowledging that I exist only when they need something.

 

Jerry W. Ward, Jr.                                            November 27, 2020


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