Ode to a Best Little Friend

I had a friend. He was the best little friend of all my little life. I never was very good at making friends. Not best friends. Many people know me and though they are not, by no little means, enemies they are friendly but not Friends. Because I'm a little weird: I live in a hole; I have a big head; I was once stung in the head by a giant baked bean disguised as a bumbblebee; I was a hot air balloon; I'm eight years old. So I've always been a little guarded. Not unfriendly, by no little means no! But just a little careful about how close I get to them. People are complicated beings. They make strange little judgements. Sometimes quite involuntarily...

Anyway. He was different. He smiled a whole lot. He always saw the bright side of little things. And big things. And none of my little quirks seemed to upset him. I let them unfold slowly, one by one. For some reason I felt safe with him. Very safe. He was like a pool of warm, crystal clear water. Or an engulfing puff of fluffy cloud. All my little knots and worries melted away when he hugged me or said a little kind word. In the beginning I was scared of it. And I regret that. It might have hurt him a little, I wonder. Maybe the little seed of hurt grew into a giant oak tree.

He had a little darkness that always walked hand in hand with his lovely light. It was a lovely darkness. I cherished it. I think I loved him for his quirks. His little opposites. It made him this beautiful, full, complex, little person. We talked about everything. From snails to monkeys, from stars to islands. Jesus and music. Dreams and fears.

But I felt so safe with him I let out all of my little uglies. I really did. All of them. Every single one. Forget about looking like a hot air balloon. It was a lot uglier than that. And he was such a good little friend. He stayed close and strong. But I guess the little oak tree began to grow. And it grew and it grew and it grew. And now my best friend is gone.

One day he said he got a sick feeling in his stomach when he saw me. One day he said he should have known to stay away when he asked me my age and I pretended I hadn't heard him. One day he wrote me a bad little letter. Today he stopped writing me altogether.

Why do we love people? Do we really ever love them? Did I only love him because that was the easiest way of loving myself?

I have stopped hearing my little heart beat. I am feeling a little numb.

I will miss you dearly, my possibly-buthopefullynot-imaginary-best-little-friend.

May you rest in peace.

Comments

[Crystal Rose]

Are you okay without your little best friend?

[Little Mary]

yeah. i fine. i just miss him is all. i wonder if he's okay. thanks for asking.

[Crystal Rose]

You're missed, darling.

[Little Mary]

Really?! You mean, you miss me? I thought nobody read my little blog...

[Crystal Rose]

It was basically your usual complicated, cutesy, romantic comedy plot. I love when you do every little bounce. But you don't seem to be hopping outside with a little blissful sun above you anymore...

[Little Mary]

You is right! I is being silly! I made a new little post. Hope you like it. On to bigger and better littler things!