friendship

The other day, I was browsing through my past e-mails that I've kept over the years. Then, there I was... I bumped into one of those forwarded mails that I find worth reading. Here it goes:



A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand:

"TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE."

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone:

"TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE."

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now you write on a stone. Why?"

The other friend replied:

"When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But,when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."

LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND AND TO CARVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE.

After reading this very simple story with predictable moral, I came to think of my friends. Yes,I am friendly, I know I am. But, I am somehow selective as to who my circle of real friends are. Not that I am snob or choosy, It is just that I know for a fact that only few can tolerate my peculiar moods and bear with my tantrums. In short, I am not easy to deal with... it is in my personality, I guess.

I can no longer count the number of times I have bullied my best friend. Verbally, of course! Or maybe he was in his usual complacent self that I hate especially when my hands are full of tasks at work.

On the other hand, I also can no longer count the number of times my best friend has hurt me. Verbally, of course! Or maybe I'm always in my sensitive mode whenever he cracks jokes that really hit me.

After the hurt, there will be a cold war. The length of battle depends on the situation. There will be times I do the first move to close the gap, and I know there are times he is the one trying to reach out. Then, the rest is history. We let bygones be bygones.

No matter what happens, we are still bosom buddies at the end of the day. Not because we are colleagues at work and he drives me to and from work, it is because we have finally known each other that much we are no longer best of friends, we are brothers.