I Met My First Medium Friend IRL
“One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood” — Lucius Annaeus Seneca
It always starts with a comment — a well-placed string of words on a cold August afternoon. Just when you needed that mental lift, just when you were about to give up on your daily task to write again and trudge at this writing life.
Click. Notification. Click. Who dis? Click.
You may read it once. Or twice. Or 10 times.
Do you also have a folder with screenshots for the days when it’s colder?
Craft the most eloquent form of generous response. Your heart pounds with “publish”.
Pounds with —
Click. Notification. Click. SHE RESPONDED. Click.
But that was months ago.
You found out you live in the same city. You may have missed the profile picture smile on the bookworm at your local library.
Last week, with pounding heart, you left your email address in a comment.
Click. Notification. Click. New email. Click. SHE REPLIED.
Starbucks around the corner. She won’t mind driving. You can’t be late.
Hugs. Handshakes. Awkward smiles. Hidden excitement.
Books. Life. Family. Stories. Questions. Laughs. Jokes.
“Have you read this? YES!”
“Have you watched that? Yes!”
How is Cameroon? How was Russia? How is your son? How is your wife?
“Here’s a picture of our dog.”
“Here’s a picture of our DOGS!”
One. Two. Three.
Me: “There’s a writer’s meet-up next Tuesday, will you be able to make it? I think Linda, the group leader, would love you.”
Translation: Can you be my friend forever?
Elena: “If the creek doesn’t go up, I promise you I’ll be there”.
Translation: Aren’t we already?
Thanks for yesterday Elena, and see you soon.