Generosity: in 2 Syllables or Less

One evening, over dinner, the world collapsed around my ears.

I phoned my friend.

“I don’t think I’ll make it on Friday,” I whispered.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“I’m coming to get you”, she said.

And so she did.

She:

Came and got me.  Took me home.  Steered me to the car clutching a tootbrush and bottle of red wine.  Moved out of her room and bunked up with her daughter, so I could sleep in peace.

Gave me breakfast, soup, endless cups of tea.

Listened to me cry.  Left me to sit and stare.

Gave me comfort, refuge, home.

Gave me friendship, kindness, love.

Gave me the means to carry on.

Times have changed.  A decade has gone by.  Tables have turned.  Now she says “I’ll never be able to repay you”.

I laugh.  I’m still in her debt, and will always be.

Will always be grateful for that moment, that stretching out of the hand of friendship.  Changing not just the course of that 24 hours, but the way that I look at the world.

Showing me the universe, in the darkest of hours, in the brightest of colours.

Dancing in the generosity of others.


This post is my contribution to the Middle Zone group writing project What I Learned From the Generosity of Others.

If you want to take part too, you’re very welcome, but entries need to be in by Sunday evening.

It was also an exercise in writing with simplicity.  And saying thanks.

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