…a far-away friend asked me that today: “Do you ever think of me?”
Not in plaintive or petulant tones, but sincere and inquiring. Vulnerable and earnest, he truly wanted to know. As it had been quite some time since he had last heard from me, I think he was beginning to feel at least a twinge of inconsideration on my part.
This is a characteristic I would rank amongst the highest of my faults: that I am, too often, so immersed in the many tasks, endeavors, and workings of my daily living that I can leave those dearest friends and familiars dangling at a distance from me. So close, but still so far.
I am not callous in this, there is not a feeling of malice towards my friends – save for the malice that comes of forgetting them, and forgetting the care of their heart`s love for me.
Answering my friend in a hearty affirmative, I give assurances that I do indeed “think of him” as often of every day as I am given to moments of contemplation. I would venture that I think of my many family and friends at least once or twice in a given day.
The average day is long for thinking, and much consideration can be contained within the golden silences wedged between the bawling hours of work and circumstance.
Of my dearer ones, I think on them often, and with deep affection… though my ponderous spells of wordlessness might seem to speak otherwise.