what does it mean to be a friend?

i know. this sounds mundane. too "campy", like we're going to talk about this around a fire and then have a "share" time about friends who have really been there for us.

but think about it, just a moment, and ask yourself:
what does it mean to be a true friend?

i asked myself this, in my head, in my little head voice, questions resonated:
"sam, what does it even mean?? what does it look like and how do i do it??"
over lunch on sunday.

we were sitting at an iron table, outside at a cafe on fayetteville street. downtown raleigh, on a day like last sunday (80 degrees, light pollen-laced breeze, little potted trees lining the brick and cobblestone avenue, home to odd and confident street musicians and watch-worthy passersby) feels no less than a scene in a salinger novel. on days like these, i feel lucky.

i asked myself this question out of necessity.
sunday, i realized i have no idea what it means to be a friend.

when a call or text or email is not nearly enough to help,
and you're even afraid it might do more harm than good,
what is a friend then?
just sitting back and praying silently? letting them know of your sideline involvement and care only so often?

or when even a lengthy face-to-face conversation or hug or touch of the hand feels awkward because it's not enough and both of you know it,
what is a friend then?

is it being sympathetic or sharing words of wisdom?
is it even talking at all?
or is it just listening and letting them talk?
is it crying when they cry and laughing when they laugh and staying silent when they're heavy with concern?

i don't know.