The Chaff

I’m not actually certain what I’ve done, mind you, but it must have been something pretty heinous to counteract years of friendship. And I don’t just mean the "hang out together and have fun" kind of friendship: I mean the "help out how you can, support your dreams and goals, defend you from unfair attacks (even when it incurred some pretty heavy personal costs), cheer you up when you need it, cry with you when nothing else works, and even slap you upside the head when you really, really deserve it" kind of friendship—and it was that kind of friendship from both sides. You don’t just toss those away because someone annoyed you, so whatever it was I did, it was clearly unforgivable.

I’ve always been blessed with wonderful friends. All of my friends, past and present, have been the kind of people you could call from jail in the middle of the night and know that they will come get you. When your boss starts treating you like shit, they’ll buy you a margarita and help you dust off your resume. When you tell them you’re moving, the first words out of their mouths are "need help?" and "where and when?"

Most of all, they’re the kind who value honesty as much as loyalty, so their not afraid to tell you, "Man, you’re out of line here—rein it in" those times when you really, really need to hear it. Never once would your being out of line or their needing to call you on it for your own good in any way jeopardize the underlying friendship. I don’t know what it would it take to make me toss that kind of friendship aside.

Oh, sure, sometimes you argue. Sometimes you fight, even viciously. Sometimes life intervenes and you drift in different directions, maybe going months without seeing each other. But it doesn’t matter, it just doesn’t. Because when the phone rings and your friend says "I need help", the correct response is "where and when?"