Not one more, not one less: my friends, the same as always.
All my life I have had few friends, but the few I have are really my family. I can say that most of those friends, have been friends for a long time and even though I don't communicate with them on a daily basis, I know they will be there if I need them and vice versa. I recognize that I am not so “friendly” and I find it hard to make new friends, maybe that's why I try to keep the few I have.
My friends and colleagues at the university
My friends and colleagues at the university
Tania is a chavista, but she is one of my best friends.
My friends and colleagues at the university
Indira, my friend from university
There was a time when I had only three friends: one friend from each academic stage, but after I left being a student and started working at the university, some of my professors became colleagues and friends.
To start talking about this week's topic, I must say that since the arrival of Chavismo, many friendships and family relationships in Venezuela have dissolved. In my case, I have three friends who agree with the government, but we maintain our friendship, although in recent years we have distanced ourselves a lot, because of work, but when we meet, we resume our usual friendship. However, there was a friendship that I lost because of political issues and it hurt me a lot.
This is a teacher who was like a father to me, with whom I got along very well. We used to discuss literature and history over a cup of coffee or a cold beer, but after the arrival of the government he changed his attitude completely. From greeting me with hugs and kisses, he changed sidewalks just to avoid running into me. He would walk into an office and completely ignore me or dodge me, just because I was against the government. But one time, I confronted him and told him that I never would have imagined that our friendship would end like this. I remember telling him everything I thought about his childish attitude and although he apologized and we said hello again, our friendship was never the same. Trust was broken and when trust is broken, it is impossible to repair it.
That's what happened with a friend I considered a brother. We studied together and he would always pick me up for class. I remember that my “suitors” called him brother-in-law and his girlfriends called me sister-in-law. I had a unique trust with him and with him I would talk about things I didn't talk about with anyone else: so much so, that he knew some of my secrets and I knew his secrets. Suddenly, one day they started leaving love letters at my house for me. When I asked him what he knew about it, he told me he knew nothing, but the letters kept coming home. One day he told me that he was the guy in the letters and that he was in love with me. That upset me a lot because he didn't have the confidence to tell me his feelings before. Our relationship ended and I lost my great friend, almost a brother.
Another great friend I lost was when I was 15 years old. I had two sisters who lived in my neighborhood as friends. With them I exchanged clothes, magazines, secrets. Since they lived nearby, they would spend the day at my house or I would spend the day at theirs. But one day their mother left home and abandoned them. That abandonment resulted in my two friends “committing illicit acts”: they became two rebellious girls with no adult control. This upset my parents so much that they strictly forbade me, in capital letters, to get close to my two friends. Obviously that decision hurt me and made me very angry, especially because I believed that even if my friends did not behave well, it did not mean that I would behave like them: “If you hang out with a mechanic, you will end up getting grease all over yourself,” my parents always said.
As I write this story, I remember that at some point I had the opportunity to get in touch with these two friends. They told me that at that time they were very hurt because I turned my back on them, but that with time they had understood me, because indeed at that time they were in a bad way and it was good that my parents forbade me to be with them. In fact, one of them told me with some sadness:
These are: my friend from school, my friend from high school and my friend from university.
One of them was that of the letters
If we had had parents like yours, maybe we would not have lived through all the horror we lived through, she told me through Messenger and I felt so guilty that I had not been there for them.
Before Facebook was invented, there was already a song sung by Roberto Carlos that talks about the idea of having a million friends. I don't think I can have a million friends, because just as when you have a child, a plant, a dog, friendship also requires care. Friendship, true friendship, is not a wild plant that grows anywhere, out of nowhere, without a little water or food. While it is true that a true friendship does not require you to be like the scientist with the microscope, in constant observation, there must be a link, a communication, a hello that tells the other that you are there, despite the distance.
I once read a novel in which a woman invites all her friends to a big party where she plans to confess a great secret, but at the party she realizes that the people she had considered friends all her life were not. At my parties there are always a few friends, but those few are always happy to see me.
In the last few years I have lost friends, but because they have left this world, so I consider those losses to be different. Friendship remains intact, it survives the physical absence and although they are no longer with me, I know that when I have the opportunity to meet again we will resume the conversations that were pending.
All images are free of charge and the text is my own, translated in Deepl
This is my participation this week for our great friend @ericvancewalton's initiative: Memoir monday. If you want to participate, here's the link to the invitation post
