She and her husband are leaving their home,
and three of their children,
to go to Dublin with their young son,
for a long awaited bone marrow transplant.
They will be gone for up to three months.
As we walked along, chatting non stop as usual,
on a glorious sunny morning,
we tried to act normal.
But what is normal in this situation?
We spoke of the accommodation,
the procedure, the side effects,
and the return home.
Of consultants, nurses, friends and good wishes,
prayers and expectations.
We laughed as we always did,
and joked about nothing in particular.
Then just for one moment,
it all became too much.
Not for my friend who is so very strong,
but for me.
I felt overwhelmed by all she had ahead of her,
and how much I would miss our walks together.
I struggled and bit my tongue,
looked around and tried frantically to think of other things.
But I was not as strong as her,
my mental diversion failed miserably,
and I could not help those silent tears from falling.
As we walked on looking forward,
I battled for control.
Self indulgent hot tears streaming down my face.
For a few minutes I thought my friend was fooled,
and perhaps was not aware of my weakness.
Then suddenly mid sentence she turned to me,
and reached across to wipe my tears.
Then the moment passed,
and off we went.
Two friends chatting non stop,
on a walk under the bluest of skies.
Two friends who in that moment,
had said all they needed to say.
© Copyright Chris Reynolds and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence