Dare you to move
She brought them to help her get over her fears. A huge boquet of brightly colored balloons.
It was the popping that made her nervous, not just looking at them. The sudden loud bursting sound that would make her shudder. Some sort of holdover from a childhood party gone bad. She brought them to help her get over her fears, but my oh-so-nervous friend wasn't interested.
I don't know what drew me to those balloons, but they held an odd attraction for me yesterday. Maybe it was the colors, bright and cheerful. Maybe the sentiment they were supposed to evoke, happiness and cheer. Maybe their ability to fly away with simply the snip of a string, and leave everything behind. Maybe it wasn't any of that at all, but something bigger; something someone couldn't tell by just looking at them, floating serenly in that living room.
Part of it was tied to the fear. Something so simple, meant to evoke happiness, can also evoke some other totally different feeling. A cheerful offering on the outside, masking a hidden fear just beneath the surface. The juxtaposition of the two struck me.
The other affecting piece was the giver of those balloons. A friend who not only wanted to add another touch to her present, but also desired to help a beloved friend overcome a fear, regardless of how trivial it might seem. I thought about that for a long time. Do I have someone who would bring me my porverbial balloons? Someone who will be there to hold my hand, and tell me its ok? Walk with me through the seemingly easy things that are now so hard for me?
I hope so. But I don't think anyone really will understand completely.
Later, a ruined birthday cake brought on an impromptu baking session with this friend.
"What's your vision? What should this look like?"
"Chocolate. That's all I know for sure. I don't think we've time to make it anything spectacular. She'll understand."
In the kitchen, I'm nervous. This could fly by, with joking and joviality, or this could drag on with silence that threatens to kill.
"So how are you doing? Whats going on with you?"
I didn't expect that, but it opened the floodgates. Seemingly simple words, and the story just came tumbling out. I hadn't ever gotten to talk to her like that....Always envied that she'd shared that with our friend. Glad that we could finally clear the air, and put things out on the table.
You see, she's hurting too. Not the same as me, but there's a universality in pain sometimes that only someone else who's hurting just as badly or even worse than you can validate. And sometimes in the unexpected moments of conversation, you find out that theres something there that no one else will really understand because they're all too busy looking at the other problems that stick out more. Something you both share that makes you angry and so sad at the same time.
She wrote of a night of chocolate cake and bonding with another friend, but tonight there's another chocolate cake and another memory. Tonight, I know someone else knows how I feel. Not necessarily because they have experienced the same thing, but because they hurt too. And in some odd way, I'm grateful. Not for her pain, but for the compassion that it brings and our ability to relate in a way that we hadn't been able to before. And for that, I am glad.