As we turn yet another calendar page over and greet July, it seems like many of the people I call my friends have been struggling with a variety of things.
Some of them struggle with chronic physical conditions, some with injuries to their backs or their legs. Some struggle to recover from major and minor surgeries.
Some feel left behind or left out. Some feel that they have been forgotten. Or that the world is so big that they are insignificant and lost.
Some of them struggle with lost jobs and some with lost homes.
And some with both.
Some struggle with sick or hurt family members which include loved pets. Some even struggle with their friends.
Some struggle with coping with expectations that remain unmet. Some struggle with love lives that are
dead on arrival, missing, or worse are in relationships that are actually abusive.
And a goodly number struggle with many of these things all at once.
Someone dear to me often says, "Life! Aye, it's what we signed up for!"
Some days, I just wish I could remember signing anything.
I can understand how many of my friends feel the way they do. Many of their struggles are mine too, perhaps only in a different shape or form or degree.
Sometimes I wish I could give them an umbrella when it rains or pull them under the roof when the contrary wind blows. Life weathers us all. It beats against us and batters us, and leaves us fractured, blistered, peeling, and perhaps even rust-stained.
Today I find myself struggling with all the struggling. The
Golden Rule is my guide, but it fails sometimes. Sometimes I can't do what I would like to do. I can't transform myself into a Harry Potter-like wizard, wave my wand, and forcefully say incantations like "Cancer Exspellarium!" or "Hurtyknee Allbetterum!"
And of course, I know no one expects this of me.
And more practically, I know sometimes the best thing to do is to do nothing.
Sometimes no matter what bruise the world has given a friend, the best thing to do seems to be "just sit next to them and listen".
Sometimes just soothing talk about something else entirely is a help.
Sometimes a shared laugh over a particularly good joke clears away some of the hurt.
Sometimes something physical, something tangible to hold, like a card with a scrawled line or two of ink can mean something really big. Sometimes flowers (or even a picture of a flower) can bring some sunshine into some one's world - I've never really understood how they do that.
Sometimes watching a butterfly emerge or seeing an extra special sunset or rainbow works like when mom kissed your boo-boo and things were once again set aright back in the good old days.
Sometimes the hand that mows their lawn or brings them hot soup helps. And sometimes just a couple quarters and some loose dimes is really all it takes.
The helping hand could be like the magic of having a fresh coat of paint - Perhaps not so much the fresh color but the personal touch of a caring application. But does that just conceal the damage? Does it put it simply put it out of sight and out of mind?
And how do you know
what to do
when?
I sleep less easily on the days when friends struggle.
My friends have their pride and dignity. Many of them are a very independent lot - and would never ask for help - come hell or high water. In fact, that trait may be the endearing quality I see in them and the very thing that caught my eye in the about them in the first place.
How do I respect that - their pride and their dignity? I know I surely would be causing them even more hurt if I damage that - however unintentionally and inadvertently.
The balance of being there, showing that someone cares, and letting them know they aren't
really alone, forgotten or even lost in this chaotic world of ours - weighed against their independence and diginity and sense of self-worth - seems to me to be a difficult one.
Maybe I'm just thinking too hard.
Your friends reflect on your identity. A part of their substance becomes at least one of the numbers or letters that name you. Somewhere inside you - there is a place that holds the part of them they have choosen to give you.
A place that needs an open window and some open space to give them light, fresh air and a place to grow. Sometimes, there needs to be a door - so that they can go their own way.
But I want that door to have a welcome mat and remain unlocked - so should they want, they can return at a time of their own choosing. I hope that, should they go - they will want to drop a line or two - just now and then.
And in the end, we are all "flying solo". Life is ours to live it the way we chose to, within the constraints we find or even place ourselves in.
And life is a journey to somewhere - I'm not sure exactly where - Our friends are our
traveling companions.
I feel blessed to have the traveling companions I have. I don't mind helping with them overcome seasickness or contrary winds when I can. When any one of them gets laid up on the shore, broken or simply in need of a rest, I want them
all to know that I'm not going to willingly leave them behind.
The view from the window at the Bed and Breakfast 
A very decorative cutwater
Inside one of the many Antique Boat Museum's buildings during the rain 
Miss Thousand Islands II rides off with some people enjoying the Garden Gala 
The Zipper returns to the museum's boathouse with a load of passengers
The view from the window at the Bed and Breakfast 
A very decorative cutwater
Inside one of the many Antique Boat Museum's buildings during the rain 
Miss Thousand Islands II rides off with some people enjoying the Garden Gala 
The Zipper returns to the museum's boathouse with a load of passengers
