Friendship

Of late I've been thinking about the definition of friendship. As my close friends have come to visit me here in recent weeks, they serve a purpose I hadn't really comprehended before. Our ties have little to do with petty favors and conveniences. No, we seem to have a bond that goes beyond anything we normally put into words.

But here I'll try: mutual respect, common history, genuine caring, a love that simply needs no forethought; we never deliberately attempt to cause undue discomfort for each other-- wouldn't think of it. Sure, we jest and press one another, a form of dressing down. But I'm certain that that also has to do with a kind of strange love. True friends make it clear that preening one's feathers is an unattractive, self-serving activity that won't go "unpunished." It deserves to be exposed and censured.

We don't intentionally brag about our accomplishments, not that we're any less proud of them. It just isn't necessary. And in the company of good friends, what's the point? Hell, they already know your strengths and weaknesses.

And in fact, when you're weak-- and they know it, they make it a point to lift you up. I love my friends and they love me. Simple. It's a blessing from above.

As a wordsmith, I think I better understand the origin of the French word "merci." It's the quality that Portia (in 'Merchant of Venice') was referring to: "The quality of mercy is not strained. / It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven / Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed; / It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." Mercy is the gift of gratitude. And friendship is a gift that never ceases to give.