We met when I was a teenager during those awkward years called puberty and I haven't regretted being introduced in the 20 years since. He has been a confidant who didn't question my choices, both good and bad, and didn't judge me with each of my life's turns. He was that kind of friend.
During the cold winter months in the northeast he'd join me to throw snowballs, build snowmen, and swing our limbs to make angels on the ground. In the summer he protected me from the sun, making sure I wasn't alone in wearing gallons of sunscreen just to play outside for 30 minutes. He curled away from humidity, but put up with it to be in my company. He was that kind of friend.
My friendship lasted many winters, springs, summers, and falls...
But 20 years of great friendship has a way of eroding when communication decreases, geography gets in the way, life events occur, and shared experiences don't come as easily. My friend and I survived all of these except my most recent life event and the impetus for this blog. He was that kind of friend.
My son is now one month old and doesn't know right from wrong, right from left, and write from well, anything in the world. He curls his toes, wrinkles his forehead, and smiles without thinking. He's surprised by sneezes, farts, burps, sneezes, and hiccups. He also grabs without purpose; something my friend could not stand. He was that kind of friend.
I paid the price whenever my son came in contact with my friend. My son would grab, tug, and pull on him and it hurt me. My son slobbered on him, spit up on him, and even peed on him. My old friend deserved better. Call it jealousy or what you want, but my son had no trouble making me pay the price for my 20-year friendship. I had to decide between my son, my comfort, and a friendship's value.
I chose my son and my comfort and shaved my chest hair.
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