Childhood Friendship

I love how kids make friends. It’s so uncomplicated. No posturing. No pretense. Just a drive to satiate that gnawing desire for intimacy and connection with another human your size. A desire that even exists for shy kids. Especially for shy kids.

There is a scene out of an unpublished book I’ve written where I think the simplicity of making a friend is captured. I won’t give you too much of the back story. It involves a small ship of Ethiopians next to a barge of American children in New York harbor. Oh yeah, and it’s 30 years after the world has collapsed and society has restarted.

Hakim leans on the rail of the Queen Mary III, peering at the cluster of youth seated aboard the steam-powered barge anchored next to them. There are more than two dozen children sitting cross-legged on the deck of the barge, dressed in rags, vacant-eyed, and quiet. Hakim lifts his fingers from the rail in a partial wave. It is what his shy nature can manage with a group of strangers. Especially since he is so tired, having stayed up until the wee hours helping his Ehmyay translate several units of their curriculum from Amharic into English.

“They should learn Amharic,” he said to his mother, because he believes this to be good for the Americans, and because he wants to go to bed. She only smiles and says, “It is a mercy to translate it into their language, and you speak it fluently. Not everyone is so lucky to know Amharic and English.” So, he soldiers on until he falls asleep at the crate which has been turned into a desk.

One boy about his age looks back at Hakim and lifts a heavy hand a few inches off his lap in response and Hakim nods to acknowledge the wave. They stare at each other for a moment.

“What’s your name?” Hakim is pushing past his shyness because he is lonely for a friend.

“Trevor.” The boy’s voice is dampened by the breeze and by the lapping of water and creak of undulating vessels.

“I’m Hakim.”

They continue to look at each other for a minute or two.

“Where you going?” Hakim asks. The boy shrugs. Hakim feels good they have had this conversation.

“Maybe we can write each other,” Hakim offers, and Trevor shrugs again.

Nocturn: The Ethiopian Orthodox. An unpublished manuscript

I like this because of the simplicity and instantaneous nature of childhood friendship. Kids are nearly indiscriminate regarding friendship, and it takes just a small exchange to ignite it. When we pass into puberty and adulthood, friendship becomes so much more thorny. Opinions on a whole variety of inane subjects begin to matter far more than they should. Words become daggers whether they are meant that way or not.

I think when I’m old I will return to the simplicity of childhood friendship. Time will have become too valuable to waste on things like differing opinions or trading sharp words. I’ll lift a heavy hand to someone across the room and he’ll nod. Then we will be friends.