An Old Friend

“You’ll be known by the friends that you keep”

“You’ll be known by the friends that you keep” was my mother’s admonition that never rang more real than when I opened my front door and discovered one of my oldest, though far from dearest, friends. 
 
His time-worn face betrayed a lifetime of disappointments, and his hobbled gait betrayed a lifetime of misfortune.  He eagerly took the seat I offered him, and we began reminiscing about the old days.
 
The very first time I met him, I was merely five years old. We were living in naval housing at Norfolk Naval Base in Virginia, just my mom and dad, my two older sisters, and my newborn baby brother.  It was on account of said baby brother that I found myself outside being “supervised” by my older sisters who, on my best days, found me only mildly annoying. You know how it is with younger brothers.
 
Surrounding our governmental supplied housing was a forest. And on that fateful day, I ventured into its cool shadows. I paused to look up at the forest shadows before me, then broach its dark canopy.
 
Within the confines of the forest, I experienced an array of flora and fauna that included Daddy long-legged spiders, beetles of every shape and color, mosses like rare Persian carpets, and the sheer joy of rambling over and under the fallen logs and bramble.  Each step was like opening a new treasure chest of boyhood wonder. Each treasure pulled me deeper within its dark canopy until I became lost in the forest showcase of heavy shadows and spires of piercing light.
 
Within that instant of disorientation and desperation, I first meet my oldest friend.  A friend called Fear.
 
Fear dined on my immaturity.  The mere sight of him made my heart ring in my ears.  I panted for air as I whirled around, searching for a way home.  But Fear only watched and smiled. A smile that one would find on the face of broken clown figurine.
 
 I called out for my sisters. 
 
I cried out for my mother. 
 
I cried until someone found me.

Fear followed me when I said goodbye to my Norfolk, VA friends, and we moved to Long Beach, CA.  He followed when I said goodbye to my Long Beach friends and moved to Jacksonville, FL.  He even followed when I said goodbye to my Jacksonville friends and moved back to San Diego, CA.  I hated him, but my hatred only tightens our bonds.  He was always there.
 
Living in San Diego, I had the great fortune to be surrounded by a vast wilderness of sagebrush and sandstone cliffs.  I could hike for miles and miles in those pre-teen days of endless energy.  On one hot morning, I came across two storm drains that ran about 80 feet under Navajo road.  I remember peering down those dark throats and imagine myself the discoverer of a fantastic shortcut.  I started to shimmy down the left pipe.  It was a snug fit. I made progress by synchronizing the pull of my outstretched hands and the push of my toes.  I had progressed about halfway when I became stuck.  The thin layer of dried sediments no longer allow my toes to push me towards the light and the end of this tunnel.  I thrashed about like a headless rattlesnake, but I only became more immobile.  With this realization, a flush fell over me.  My mouth felt dry, yet my hands were clammy. I was being consumed whole by claustrophobic fear. I was in the belly of the beast. I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t move.  Bound by my old friend Fear.
 
I began to drown in the still waters of panic.   I could not go forward; I could not go back. It was there in the cold air of that storm drain; moments before asphyxiation or hyperventilation that I made my peace with Fear.  In that instant, as Fear took me to the edge of life, I learned that my aversion to fear was his strength.  The more I fought the biological influences, the more invincible fear became.  It was in that crisp, dank darkness that I accepted fear and all his machinations.  And with acceptance, fear slowly melted away.  
 
I slowed my breathing.  I relaxed. After several attempts, I began to slide myself back down the 40’ of that storm drain. 
 
Upon exiting that storm drain, I filled my lungs in the warm morning air.  I stood there dirty, sweaty and smiling.
 
I had converted Fear from a rival to a friend.  Fear was no longer debilitating; Fear became exhilarating.  We climbed rock cliffs; we braved chaotic surf, we hurled ourselves from safety again and again.  If we had the opportunity, we would have taken selfies together.  Never again would he hold sway as he did those many years ago amongst the dark and lonely trees in Virginia.
 
“You’ll be judged by the friends you keep.” 
 
Keep them close!!