Ships At Sea
What he had to say wasn't easy.
“I’ve watched you for many long years, now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “and I have to tell you something, my dear.” Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by a terrible coughing fit. I got up quickly, making my way across the room to grab a box of tissues. Coming back over to his bedside, I held one out to my grandpa, and with shaking hands he reached out and grabbed it. Once it was over, he rested for a moment, breathing, or more accurately, wheezing, until he could collect himself.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “I’ve been living with you and your family for six years now, since your grandma died, bless her soul, and I’ve seen what has been happening to you.”
“But Grandpa, nothings happ–”
“No, no, dear,” he said, interrupting me. “Something has been happening to you.” He looked at me with soft eyes; the kind that say I’m sorry.
“Lottie, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Friendship’s are like a ship.” He must’ve seen something flash over my face when he said, “Come on dear, don’t look at me like that; it was the best I could come up with.”
“Anyway, friendship’s are like a ship. When you have a nice breezy day and a calm ocean, everything on that ship is fine. But, as soon as you get a particularly nasty storm, the ship, and everything on that ship, is in trouble.” He paused here for a moment to let out a wet, sickening cough before continuing. “In a storm like that is when you see what your ship is made off; cedar or oak. In a storm like that, some ships sink, and few make it to harbor.” He looked at me pointedly, and then said, “You have a big heart, dear, and I know that you want to help everyone, but sometimes, it’s just not your fight. You have to let others deal with things themselves. Do you understand?” He looked at me again with those eyes and all I could do was nod.
I did get what he was saying. For the longest time, the person I call my best friend has done nothing but make me feel terrible. Many people have already told me that it was bad for me, but leaving isn’t that simple.
“I know grandpa. I know,” I said with an exasperated sigh.
“Good,” he said with a sharp tone.
After that, we chatted for a while longer, until, around half past 10, he fell asleep. Even after he started snoring, I stayed there and thought about what he said. I knew he was right, but I didn’t know what to do. Things like this weren’t simple.
They never were.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “I’ve been living with you and your family for six years now, since your grandma died, bless her soul, and I’ve seen what has been happening to you.”
“But Grandpa, nothings happ–”
“No, no, dear,” he said, interrupting me. “Something has been happening to you.” He looked at me with soft eyes; the kind that say I’m sorry.
“Lottie, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Friendship’s are like a ship.” He must’ve seen something flash over my face when he said, “Come on dear, don’t look at me like that; it was the best I could come up with.”
“Anyway, friendship’s are like a ship. When you have a nice breezy day and a calm ocean, everything on that ship is fine. But, as soon as you get a particularly nasty storm, the ship, and everything on that ship, is in trouble.” He paused here for a moment to let out a wet, sickening cough before continuing. “In a storm like that is when you see what your ship is made off; cedar or oak. In a storm like that, some ships sink, and few make it to harbor.” He looked at me pointedly, and then said, “You have a big heart, dear, and I know that you want to help everyone, but sometimes, it’s just not your fight. You have to let others deal with things themselves. Do you understand?” He looked at me again with those eyes and all I could do was nod.
I did get what he was saying. For the longest time, the person I call my best friend has done nothing but make me feel terrible. Many people have already told me that it was bad for me, but leaving isn’t that simple.
“I know grandpa. I know,” I said with an exasperated sigh.
“Good,” he said with a sharp tone.
After that, we chatted for a while longer, until, around half past 10, he fell asleep. Even after he started snoring, I stayed there and thought about what he said. I knew he was right, but I didn’t know what to do. Things like this weren’t simple.
They never were.
♠ ♠ ♠
Cheesy, I know.