Friendship is a Grace
“Grammy, we’re friends, right?” he said. We sat at the kitchen island side-by-side eating lunch, my 3-year-old grandson and I. We were perched on orange mid-Century modern bar stools, held aloft by long silver posts. The walnut-backed chairs swivel, but his little back and forth arcs had stopped.
His look was inquisitive. Interest shone like a light house from his earnest, wide, tawny eyes. His small toes rested against my bare thigh.
“Yep, we are,” I said. “We’re buddies.” The feeling was easy. He munched chicken and buttered pasta noodles and I spooned cottage cheese and fruit.
Instead of my usual sundress, I’d worn navy shorts and a turquoise print top, so that we could play on the floor with trains, cars and blocks. Putting on makeup or fussing with my hair had seemed pointless, because we swim after quiet time. Besides, he didn’t care whether or not I had eyebrows or freckles.
His khaki shorts were bunched up against a grey Star Wars T-shirt that sported Chewbacca, R2-D2, C-3PO, BB-8 and Yoda under the words, “Born a Rebel.”
“I’m nice to Grammy because we’re friends, and Grammy is nice to me because we’re friends, right?” he said. His beanpole frame curled into the chair. Because his brush haircut was growing out, it framed his face like a soft brown halo.
He held a tot-sized, blue and green Paw Patrol fork with Chase on the stem. In a crystal cannister next to my elbow, there were dark chocolates covered in shiny red wrapping; I keep it filled because he and his Grampy love them.
“That’s right,” I said. “You’re my friend and I would never hurt you.”
Time paused to hold this tender conversation. The pain from a pinched nerve in my neck had receded out of awareness but I heard my heart.
The pendant lamps above the island were off and the house was washed with the bright rays of the Arizona sun. His features were clear, his expression gentle, intent.
He reached over. His small index finger, buttery from his lunch, traced my cheek. Light as a feather. Soft as a cloud. Slow as molasses.
“Friends make each other feel better, right?” he said as he looked into my eyes. The moment could not have been any smaller. Or any bigger.
“Yes, they do,” I said, “Yes, they do.” I smiled at him. He was part philosopher, part spiritual teacher, and part, “snakes and snails and puppy dog tails.” He giggled and grinned back as he turned to scoop up another penne noodle.
The moment was potent, true, real. It centered, a clarion call in these times when friends feel pitted against each other by political and religious beliefs or conspiracy theories. When friends feel isolated, separated by a raging virus.
Friends make each other feel better. Friends bring out the love in each other. Friends avoid hurting one another. Friends reach out. Friends bridge solitary spaces. Friends play together. Friends stay together. Friends understand. Friends forgive.
A little Yoda with a pure soul told me that friendship is a Grace.
Copyright 2020, Linda Sandel Pettit, Ed.D.
Dr. Linda Sandel Pettit, a priestess-at-heart and retired counseling psychologist, can be found at www.thedrspettit.com. Linda loves putting her intuitive nature, spiritual understanding and clinical experience in service to others. She is available for both single psycho-spiritual or intuitive conversations and her longer-term Apprentice’s Way Walks. For information about fees and packages, visit BOOK NOW. For more information or fee assistance, email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.