Hot potato

Friends are good.

It's a rough time, this one. Regardless of who you are and what your life may look like, there's no denying that we've hit a rough spot. The country is in shambles and even the most apathetic citizen is unable to ignore the impact this recession is having on the lot of us. It would take someone born with a silver spoon not to feel the weight of it all, not to be at least a little bit hit by it.

It sits there like the canvas on which to live our lives. Each of us already with our own challenges. Our illnesses, our education, our work environment, our family life are all tinged with the same lining. Every obstacle is just that little bit more magnified.

The luxury of a cup of designer java is all the more appreciated under such circumstances. Phone trees are kicked into gear. And you get the call. Friends in need. A moment to regroup, to find comfort, support, a forum to vent. In a matter of minutes, like worker bees, we find a common meeting place, set a time, and spread the word. And then we look forward for that moment. We sing in the car. We roll down the window and find a new sweetness in the way the sun hits our arm. We are going to be with friends.

Whoever arrives first has the task of setting up shop. Find a table stake out the chairs, field calls from anyone who's gotten lost. And slowly, the haggard, worn, and anxious faces appear. There's no need for small talk. We jump right into our truths. Our pains, our hurts, our frustrations. We take turns spilling it all, and we take turns being the voices of reason, of advice, but mostly of support. If we have no wisdom, we say so. But we have heart and we give that freely. Hot potato... your turn. Hot potato... my turn.

The sun whispers in orange tones and we begin to re-dress in our combat gear. We have been re-energized. We have been vindicated. We are omnipotent. We can do this. Our friends said so.

So we go and rejoin our individual lives again. Better equiped. Wounds bandaged. We can do this. Our friends said so.