Friendships and communication

There are various types of friendships one can have close friends, acquaintances, work friends, Facebook friends, Twitter friends, friends made through blogs, and the list can go on to add pretty much whatever you want. I have one close friend, my bff (best friend forever) and she has been my friend for thirty years or so. When we met she was the girlfriend of my boyfriend’s (now husband) best friend. We have remained friends through her divorce, remarriage, deaths, the births of our children, she was in the room when I had my second child, we have laughed together and have been sad together. If I needed her this very minute, I know I could phone her and she would be here in a second. Months ago, my son was doing his best to cheer his mom up who was falling apart one day, he phoned my bff in secret and asked her to come by after work because mom was having a hard time. She came.

I have been on Twitter for two years, 9 months, 2 days, so many minutes and seconds (there’s an app). During this time I have chatted with people from all over the world and made friends with some. It wasn’t long after I was on Twitter, that one of the tweeps I spoke with asked if anyone wanted to be her penpal, thus write letters back and forth, the old fashion way. I said sure why not? It was something I have not regretted. We have written goodness knows how many letters during the past two years and have become good friends. I know all about her family, her ups and downs, and she knows the same about me. When my eldest daughter was in grade two, the teacher set up a letter writing exercise with a grade two class from another school. My daughter’s penpal ironically ended up being a cousin she rarely saw, it was so cool. When I was young, penpals were all the rage, now with instant messaging, Facebook, Twitter, etc, children/teenagers don’t have the experience like we did long ago. Cursive writing isn’t even taught in some schools and kids use short forms for speaking with their friends.

Even though the computer has changed the way we communicate with each other, friendships will continue on, we will not become blips on the screen, at least I don’t think so.

The teenage boy is a young man


This past Thursday night I did not sleep well at all, a combination of pain and stress. I took extra pain medication but as a result I dealt with insomnia. Anyways on Friday you can pretty much say I was a total utter mess and by the time the teenage boy returned home from his university classes, I was hanging by a thread.

As usual, we chatted about his classes and then he made the mistake of asking me about my day. All started out well, but when I started talking about middle child’s depression and feelings of sadness, I completely fell apart, and this is when the teenage boy became a young man. Instead of running away from his mother who was bawling her eyes out, he came over to the couch, sat beside me and held me while I cried and cried and then blew my nose over and over again. Once I settled down, he went on his way, to do whatever he does after school. Later on that evening, my best friend phoned to give us the details of the concert she was taking the teenage boy to on Saturday night. After I finished speaking with her, the teenage boy wanted to chat with her. I did think it was weird when he took the phone to the basement for privacy, so when he returned I asked him why? His response, which I thought was quite funny was “I have a personal relationship with your best friend too”. I burst out laughing, but she is considered his aunt, so I thought nothing more of their telephone conversation.

An hour later, as I sat on the couch, doing nothing particular, someone knocked on the door and who walked in, but my best friend. The reason the teenage boy had gone downstairs to chat with her on the phone, was to ask her a favour. He had asked her to come over and visit me because I was sad. I love my son. I love my best friend, who came over when I needed her.

The teenage boy is a young man and the best friend of twenty-nine years is a keeper.