On Buddies

    

There is a neighborhood coffee shop at which a number of us as buddies gather for breakfast on most days. We are buddies rather than friends because we do not usually see one another outside our breakfast sojourns (although we could become friends if an emergency among us arose.) Two come as a couple, and the rest of us come singly, which means that we always know to leave two adjacent spaces open for the pair among us. Other patrons know us as a small “band of brothers” (and sisters too, I suppose, because two of us are women), so they often leave the counter to us and go to tables.

Conversations in trust...


Our talk can be very casual and sometimes hold great meaning. Although it has never been said, we know that we hold our conversations in trust, never to be shared with “outsiders.” All but one of us could be considered “crocks” because we have lived long enough to experience life’s great equalizers… death, loss, certain disintegrations. The youngest among us has not… but he will, and when he does, we will be among those who bring familiar assurances because we know them all.

The open field of concern is present...

Silently we bring what each one needs, a listening ear, an uncritical tongue and sometimes words that acknowledge solicitude when one of us wavers. None of this is particularly noted… or even voiced at times… but we know the open field of concern is present. That’s what buddies do.

Now more than ever, we need them...

There is a distinction between friends and buddies. Friends need a certain amount of upkeep; buddies are just “there,” and when one is missing from the morning gathering, we notice. We could be wondering… with the world full of so much scary stuff, why should we even bother about simple odes to buddies? Perhaps because now more than ever, we need them…


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