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Shoot.

I took a quick glance down at the green numbers on my dashboard. I was late. And of course, little ol’ granny pulls out in front of me with her huge red truck. Wait, why does this old lady have such a huge truck? Oh right. I’m in Nebraska. And of course it’s red.

Well, whether she was Nana from Alabama or Grammy from Montana, she was a slow poke and I was late. Was it partly my fault for getting out the door at 10:28 when class started at 10:30? Yes. But now I had someone else to cast my blame upon. And she was the reason I was late. Thanks.

I walked into class around 10:33, which turned out to be “the perfect timing of the year” entrance. It was like something out of a cheesy my-life-as-a-high-schooler movie. My first step into the classroom and I hear, “Abi Burrows?”

“Here,” I said, trying to sound calm and cool. He looked up from his clipboard, nodded and smiled. I smiled back.

“Did you read the section for the day?”

Panic. “Uh… no I didn’t.”

He smiled again. “Okay.”

He continued with the attendance as I settled down with my books. Listening to others responses, I didn’t feel so bad for shirking my reading responsibilities.

I was taking Psychology of Religion with Dr. Wigert. I had never taken a class with him before. Why hadn’t I? He was awesome! I am by no means anywhere close to being an audio learner, but I found myself enthralled with what he was saying that day.

He asked the class, “How many dear friends do you have? At least one?” Being in the front row (that’s what happens when you’re late), I peeked around at the class’s response. Almost everyone’s hand was raised with mine. At least two? My hand was up. Three? My hand was still up. Four? My hand went down. Five? More hands came down. Six? Only a few remained.

Dr. Wigert went on to tell us that it is impossible to have more than six “dear friends.” We humans can’t handle the time and intensity it takes to be intimate with that many people.

I began thinking about the people in my life and started feeling guilty for only claiming three dear friends. I have more than three, right? What about so-and-so? They are my dear friend! But I realized I was not being honest with myself. Of course those people are my friends. Their friendships mean very much to me! But it is true. To have so many dear friends would be unpractical. Nay untruthful.

A dear friend is hard to come by. It takes work, time to grow, understanding… it is a beautiful thing. Nothing that is beautiful happens quickly. It is slow. In that case, I guess Granny is the most beautiful thing to behold.

 

About the author: Abi Burrows

Abi Burrows is a junior at Hastings College, majoring in Public Relations/Advertisement and minoring in studio art and visual media. She is the Public Relations Council secretary, a photographer for Hastings College's newspaper, and is a member of the Alpha Chi Honors Society . She loves foggy days, making homemade paper and watching flicks. Her favorite comic strip is Dilbert and she is always up for a game of Pitch or Scrabble.