Skip to main content

My friend


You come for me often; and sometimes you are welcomed. Sometimes I embrace you like a dear old friend. Sometimes we go for walks together through a forested park. Holding hands like lovers on the verge of a life together. Sometimes we just stay in, and share the night together.


There are other times, old friend, when you are not welcome on my doorstep. Sometimes, you need to just leave well enough alone and go your own way. Go back to the dark cave from which you came and wallow in your own misery.


Those are the brighter days for me. Those are the days the clouds clear to blue skies; the sun somehow seems warmer on my skin and the days that the mountains seem so much stronger and wise thrusting themselves from the earth. The days I shout to you; I am not alone dear loneliness. I am not alone!


The days you are away, I become stronger and more alive. Though, I do miss you, and will welcome your embrace again soon. But I also realize that too much time together with you is a depressing and sorrowful place. We need each other. This I know and accept. We've spent too much time together to have it any other way. But, I need our distance from each other, and the more I am away from you, the more I realize this.


I think it best you no longer show up unannounced. If you want me in your life, please let it be me that sends the invitation. Let it be me that sets the table for two, who lights the candles, and pours the wine. You'll be my guest for now on. When I ask you to leave, just go. Don't talk back. Just go. I am not alone dear loneliness. And I live by my rules now. I am not alone.


-Steve O'Donnell

Comments

Unknown said…
This is beautiful babe...
Anonymous said…
I read this again tonight and I really do love it.
Gertie said…
Holy smokes, Steve. You're gooooood! I cannot seem to read it enough. I think I will print it and carry it with me to read when I feel the urge. It will be tattered and faded in no time. Thank you for sharing this with us all. You are truly talented. I love you old friend, and if you do not send me an invitation to be with you I will do it anyway!! Now that I have found you again there is no getting rid of this chick!
Anonymous said…
I still love this...

Popular posts from this blog

Old post from the Anthropik network

"I noticed, when she delivered the plate of fruit, that my Balian hostess was also balancing a tray containing many little green bowls-small, boatshaped platters, each of them woven neatly from a freshly cut section of palm frond. The platters were two or three inches long, and within each was a small mound of white rice. After handing me my breakfast, the woman and the tray disappeared from view behind the other buildings, and when she came by some minutes later to pick up my empty plate, the tray was empty as well. * On the second morning, when I saw the array of tiny rice platters, I asked my hostess what they were for. Patiently, she explained to me that they were offerings for the household spirits. When I inquired about the Balinese term that she used for "spirit," she repeated the explanation in Indonesian, saying that these were gifts for the spirits of the family compound, and I saw that I had understood her correctly. She handed me a bowl of sliced papaya and...

Country Bumpkin Charm

Each time I fly back to the big city, I sneak up on my old friend Tim. After surprising him with a traditional Inspector Clouseau / Kato maneuver, we drive around for Auld Lang Syne. While we hit most of our old haunts, the past we worship briefly resuscitates, through the well-regarded stories we share. We exchange our lively anecdotes; some unspoken for decades, as I cruise an old beater past the house where we dropped off a dropsy friend with a fine-feather we adorned in his cap, so his dad could get a good laugh at the boys out on the town. After a sentimental pizza, I hit the free-for-all freeway, where I drive in the slow lane. Tim says I drive like a country bumpkin. We come to a stop light and glance over at the racecar next to us, booming out rapid bass beats from its speakers. Tim doesn’t stare at the people, but I do, ‘cause I’m freshly fallen off the spud wagon, landed directly at Dulles Airport . Fifteen years in Idaho changes my outlook. At the airport, I watched pass...

May Writing Prompt

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea Hello fellow aspiring Idahoans who are chalk full of creative jangling juices, while dangling over precipices. What we are hoping for here are the most imaginative things that you think a fortunate diver might find at the very bottom of Redfish Lake. The more far-fetched the item -the better. Please dig deep and try to touch bottom here. Stretch that flaccid imagination out for a walk around the sparkly lake and shake off those Winter Doldrums. We encourage your comments: