I don’t have many friends. Not the kind that make you feel cleverer, wittier, nicer, just for being in their presence. The kind of friends you really worry about when things aren’t going well for them. The kind of friends that make you glad to be alive. The kind of friends you’d like to run away with to live in a hippy commune. Maybe that last one’s just me. But I have enough. A small handful that I’ve gathered over the years and held on to with a firm grasp. Very occasionally I make a new friend and it’s a little bit like falling in love.
So why a photo of my children? Well, I’m lucky enough to count my brother as one of my best friends. And I would feel that I had done the best job I could, if my children grow up to love each other in this way. So far, the signs are looking good. They are already partners in crime. They stick up for each other if one of them is in trouble. They wrestle like puppies for what feels like hours on end. They cuddle in bed reading stories together. They spend hours rehearsing plays with numerous costume changes and not much in the way of plot. They are beginning to understand that you can still love someone even if you don’t always like them.
I’m hoping that a happy by-product of taking them travelling will be a further cementing of their friendship. I have no doubt that it will not all be skipping and laughter, they are normal children after all. But nine months of each other’s company without the usual distractions of toys, school and softplay birthday parties will give them a new appreciation for each other. Either that or they’ll never speak again. I’m hanging out for the former.
This post was written for The Gallery. This week’s prompt was ‘friendship’.