I’m not a good friend. At least, this is how I feel. A tweet from a wonderful lady in my cyber world that basically said the very same thing made me think about it yet again. I like people, and I have friends. I just don’t have that many. I e-mail, sometimes call (not often because I hate the telephone). I send birthday greetings and silly messages just to say hi. I remember birthdays and I enjoy finding just the right card or gift or surprise for my friends. Sometimes, I just like to send them a gift for no reason, just because.
On occasion, I go to breakfast or lunch with my good friends. Sometimes I take road trips. Sometimes I attend parties or just hang out. But I don’t do this often.
I’d love to visit my friends who are in other cities and countries, but I don’t do that very often either.
Time gets away from me, life takes up so much space. Work keeps me busy and, I admit, I also need my down time and my solitude when I can get some.
I barely see my family enough, let alone spending the time I think I should with my precious friends.
I should be there when they are grieving. I should show up to cheer them up when they are down, have lost their job or received bad news. I should have them over for dinner and go places with them. I should do so much more.
But there just never seems to be enough time or energy to be there in person for all of them.
I love them, I enjoy them, I am always happy to hear from them and give them news.
And yet, I still don’t think I’m a good friend.