I had a friend. Well, I still do have him, but something has changed. It was a different relationship. He did all of the talking. I listened to him, often for hours at length. He spoke and spoke. He had so much to say and I listened to him attentively, some times agreeing, often times disagreeing and mostly silently and deliberately contemplating the words thrown at me. At times I thought, "Thank you for saying that, I so agree". At other times I said to him, "You're talking through your hat, mister!". Once or twice I said to him, "How silly!". I wish I could ask him directly if my interpretation of what he said added up - if that was what he tried to convey. I couldn't. He didn't have answers. Only unchangeable words that he simply went on with when I chose to listen. I could make him repeat anything at will.
Now it is at an end. Now I wish he'd gone on a little longer. I'm telling myself to be happy that it happened, not sad that it ended.
I'll soon find another friend full of words that can't be changed. A friend who says the same thing to everyone but is understood differently. He'll talk to me. Lend me wisdom while I lend him my ear. And when he's done saying what he has to say, a day later, perhaps a week or at most a month later, I'll feel bad to let go. Feel bad that I'm done and all my readiness to listen is wasted on a friend who has stopped speaking. A friend who has run out of words. Then the search for the next friend begins. The long one-sided conversation with the great minds of the world.
I finished reading a book and now I'm bored. Sad that it's over and wish it was longer. Until I find another book I can't put down.