it’s all about friendship

I have a friend named Frankie who I’ve talked about before (namely here and here and, most notably, here).

I have had friends in the past who I’ve looked at and wondered why they were in my life, why I spent so much time with them, how good we really were for each other, questioning if they really made me a better person or not, if their friendship was really worth it.

With Frankie, I don’t have any of these questions. I just know.

I’m friends with Frankie because he stands out, because he has red hair that’s so long in the front that his forehead is usually paler than the rest of his face. I’m friends with Frankie because he doesn’t care that I tease him about stuff like that.

I’m friends with Frankie because when he laughs, he does it with his whole body. Because he gets me, so much so that I never feel like I have to explain myself to him. He’s there when I’m a mess or when I’m all pieced together, he’s curious and bold and has managed to firmly grab onto the belief that people are inherently good.

I’m friends with Frankie because he cooks the most delicious chicken, because he owns an industrial vacuum, and because he says words like “bitchin.”

I’m friends with Frankie because he makes inappropriate comments about the size of his cock in front of his dad, because he’s obsessed with lists and all things organizational, because he’s non-judgmental enough that I always want to tell him the whole truth.

I’m friends with Frankie because he runs 5Ks with me, because he gets excited about little things, because his handwriting is better than mine. I’m friends with Frankie because the capacity of his heart and his dreams is limitless, because we can talk about anything.

I’m friends with Frankie because he listens to me complain about everything from my family to my body to my constipation and offers equally serious advice on all three. I’m friends with Frankie because he doesn’t really like salad, but tries to eat it anyway when I’m around.

I’m friends with Frankie because he’s patient and kind, because he’s taught me what it means to have strength, what compassion looks like when it’s unconditional. I’m friends with Frankie because he can build things with his hands, because he isn’t very good at math, and because he’ll readily talk about how he likes chunky peanut butter better than the smooth kind.

Basically, I’m friends with Frankie because my life would be a whole lot less awesome if I weren’t.

Happy Birthday Frank!

~ by nicoleantoinette on April 29, 2008.