What Makes a Friend

This week a former business acquaintance and current friend has been visiting me in my nest. Now for two women to share a small space should be a challenge, but this certainly isn’t. This woman is a five-star guest in terms of consideration, humor, helpfulness and fun.

As we talk we discover – despite being raised in different places, different religions – our similarities are frightening similar. She describes a poster she has in her kitchen: I had it in my Geneva kitchen. Both our fathers, born around holidays, never had a birthday party except for a surprise given within a short time of their deaths.

For me, it is always a pleasure to share the things I love, so we walk to the beach, visit the goat farm, head for a restaurant in the mountains. We meet up with my friends, do the almost obligatory café sits, check out the marché and just enjoy being. We look at the cemetery, not because we are morbid, but it is one way to look at cultural differences.

She has said if the space gets too tight she will be happy to go to the hotel down the street, but I doubt that it will be needed. Instead we’re having a prolonged pajama party interspersed with daily activities that I find much more fun than any sleep over I experienced as a kid. Maybe because over the years we’ve developed so much more to share than we had as teenagers.