Three words that became hard to say: I and love and you.

First, an update on my the last post about Andy and Beatrice.  A friend of mine, who, for some reason, didn't want to comment on it, suggested that the "call out" is the river speaking, which, by extension, I think is nature or some other outside force/Force, speaking to both of them, telling them both to call out, so they can find each other.  I like this too, and I wish I'd thought of it myself, but I didn't, but she did, and that's good too.

Second, this same friend who had this wondrous interpretation and I were talking over the weekend, a lot actually, old friends, catching up, which is always amazingly lovely, and we talked a bit about how it's hard to say I love you to a friend.  And it is hard, and it's sort of disheartening, I think, that those words are oftentimes reserved for use in familial or romantic relationships.  It isn't hard to say them to your parents or siblings or grandparents or your significant other, but it's usually sort of awkward, especially the first time, to say to a friend.  Most of the time, I'm pretty sure friends that I love know that I love them, and I know that they love me, but there's still that awkwardness to saying it.  I don't like this.  It doesn't have to be awkward, and I don't want it to be.  So I told her I loved her, and she told me she loved me.  As it was the first time we'd said it, even though we've been friends for many years, it was still a little awkward, but it was more freeing, empowering.

And, if you're reading this, I'm almost certain that I love you.  So, here: I love you.  I'm not expecting or asking for reciprocation.  I'm just giving it to you.  Not that my love is some magnificent gift or anything, but it's yours.