Passage

Wednesday Prose Poem Prompt: capitulation

Remembering to forget

I remember a friendship or was it? Maybe it was but it’s like old jeans — frayed and holey. Maybe comfortable as things worn down by time tend to be. Comfortable to keep though not very serviceable. Or attractive.

To be a friend is to be of service. To be there. To ask for help and to give it. To respond quicker than someone who is paid to reply, like the doctor’s nurse who took two weeks to return my call. I would expect more of a friend.

A friend should be a warm, cozy sweater. Always ready to ease the chill in my bones. Always soft and subtle.

Friendship should cover us like a blanket. Give us a place to fall softly. Friendship should be what the rest of life is not.

My memory says it was friendship. My mind says it no longer is. I don't want to accept that. Feels like giving up. Feels like failure. Yours, mine, ours.

But, it’s not. It’s just an old pair of jeans that had a job and did it and can’t anymore. It’s not me or you or us. It’s not failure.

It’s knowing when to throw out the old because it no longer has a purpose.

© Dennett 2021

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