From as far back as I can remember, the idea of friendship has been very important to me. I sat in corners and watched people I loved, and loved people I watched. But deep inside I longed to share with them. To share love, yes, but more, to share moments, to share happinesses, to share joys, even sadness. I have always reveled in the successes of others. I suppose, since for so many years I believed I could never find my own success, the successes of others I cared for were something I could enjoy vicariously. But I always felt like an interloper. I felt as if people were saying “Who are you to be happy for me?” I suppose I have always wished for the “come cheer with me”, which would allow me to officially be happy for someone I care for. In my mind, that “come cheer with me”, as well as, when needed, “please care with me”… those things are friendship. I do care, I do cheer, I do laugh, I do cry… it’s just the “with” part that I have felt so missing. Friendships, those people you can “with”, those are such a treasure. And I suppose a part of me has not ever understood why someone would not allow a person to share with them – at least a little bit, at least with approval and understanding, who would so treasure that opportunity.