A friend worth more than others

The times are dark! or at least that is what the elders would say to describe life in the 1940s. There was no education to receive, no playgrounds to play in, but we were considered lucky if we had the chance to have dinner each night. If we had clothes on our backs. If we had a floor that could be slept on. What kind of a life was this? Was this the reason that I woke up every day? Was this the reason my parents got up and went to work each day? It should not have been, but it was. It was a time of difficulty. I was not alone in this hell hole. I had a friend, A friend worth more than many others.

I was about 9 years old. When our parents would go to work in the factory during the day, my friend and I would be bored all day long with no money, no food, no books to read, and no television. Nothing. Just the company of each other. But somehow we made it work. Running around the house chasing each other like wild animals. It may sound like something small and stupid, but it was joyful. It would take the pain of the times away.

At times where I would complain about my hunger to an extent that it was unbearable. My friend would climb up the tree by the side of our hut to get me some fruit. Not looking to get herself anything but to make sure that I would not be hungry. It was as if she was a saviour sent for me by the gods. Supporting me in every way when I would fall and be weak. Did I deserve this support? Was I worthy of such a true friend? I would never know.

As I grew older, my friend and I began to stop fighting and chasing around, but the bond did not leave. The times may not have improved, but we took our chances. We would visit the theatre; watching plays about absolutely anything. I would spend most of my time making fun of the characters and acting while she would try to keep me quiet so that she could actually watch. We would sing along to the radio even if it was the most annoying song we knew. It felt the same as children playing.

My friend moved away when I was about 14, and without her, I realised how lonely I was. While my parents were at work the house would feel so silent that I could hear my breaths. It wasn’t like this when my friend was around, she would play music or always talk which helped fill these dreadful silences for me. With her gone, I had to fill these silences somehow and choose to do so with thoughts. Which was not my best idea, I have to say.

That’s because these thoughts would never end, and these thoughts wouldn’t help my mood only tell me what I already knew in different ways that made it sound worse than it was. The times were bad, but it was even worse when I thought about it. I suffered more in my thoughts than in the tragedies of the war that I grew up in. Nothing would stop this fall at all except my friend.

So, I began thinking like her, what would she do in this situation? What would she do if she was in my position? That was when I truly realised her worth, her creativity and positivity was the only thing that had kept me happy as I was a child. It came back to the same question. Was I worthy of such a true friend? Would never know and I will never understand. Yet I did know that this would be worth more than anything else I could earn or create.

Years went by and I could never reunite with my friend, I lived elsewhere, and the wars were over. All that everyone wanted now was profits. I wanted them too but what I did not want was what they brought with them. More silences to fill, more times to pass by alone. I wish that my friend would be here to change that.