Appeal to the Lonely One
At times it suits us to find friendship.
Friend, it is not possible to be born,
or die, without the other. It is well
that friendship removes from work
that feel of punishment, and from joy
the illicit airs of thievery.
How can you be alone at the total hour,
in which the things and you talk
and talk, till dawn?
~ by Rosario Castellanos
On Lonely Children and Grateful Friends
by Rebekah Choat
We’ve been bombarded these past few weeks with honey-dripping advertisements reminding us to shower our mothers with flowers and jewelry and various other gifts to demonstrate our gratitude for all they have given us and done for us through the years. Some people, I know, do (or did) enjoy very close, affectionate, greeting-card-sentiment-worthy relationships with their mothers. But some of us have had a different experience, and by the day before Mothers’ Day, we are about to suffocate on the cloying sweetness of roses and Chanel No. 5 in the air.
We are sad and lonely this week, and this poem couldn’t have come to us at a better time. Jane Austen said ‘friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love,’ and although she meant it in another sense, this is a fitting observation of how many of us find in friends the unconditional love and understanding that we do not receive from our parents.
Friendship can transform the ingrained drudgery of doing our duty into a labor of love, working in community with those who are striving toward the same goals. And oh, it is good, when the tasks of the day are done, to gather with kindred spirits around a table or hearth to share simple, honest pleasures. Even in that darkest hour before the sun comes up, the echoes of the words of friends can muffle the whispers of doubt and the murmurs of old hurts.
Thank you, my friends, and a blessed day to you.