Summer is just around the corner, and those sizzling days remind me of that BBQ at Chipping Norton Lake with Van, B. Linh, Kim, and the unforgettable front-yard-water-tap debacle. That day was absurdly hot, far too intense for grilling. We had bought a beach ball from Woolies, only to lose it in the lake.
Relationships and friendships are a two-way street. Sure, two people may never love each other equally, but they can strive to put in the same effort, though the results often vary. I’ve never been much of a fighter; things usually fall into my lap. I’ve been pretty fortunate, always seeming to get what I want in the end. But my luck has changed since then. Losing what you had is far worse than wanting what you can't have. Just like that beach ball we lost on that scorching summer day.
The girls and I bought the beach ball to play with, tossed it into the water, and then relied on each other to fetch it. But it was too hot. We preferred the shade to wading into the lake. We yelled at each other to get the ball, expecting someone else to rescue it. Amidst our bickering, the ball floated away. By the time we noticed, it was too far to retrieve. We chased it along the shore, helplessly watching it drift beyond reach, too deep for us to catch. So, we watched our beach ball wash away. I still think about that beach ball, and I’m sure the others do too, because it was part of our memorable day.
Sometimes, my friendship with him feels like that lost ball. I feel like I’m the one trying to keep it alive, often finding we have nothing to say to each other, while at other times I have so much to share. I’m trying too hard to make it work, not wanting our friendship to drift away like that ball. I occasionally manage to pull it back, only to see it wander again. Maybe I should just let it wash away, as it seems inevitable. So, I’ll let us float away, and see if anyone else will rescue this beach ball. It’s easy to say you want something or tell someone they’re special, but sometimes, actions speak louder than words.