I Miss the Days

Young black children holding each other as they face the lake.

I miss the days
When friendship was an open invitation
To laugh at everything and nothing,
At shadows dancing like brooms,
At spinach caught between our teeth.

I miss the days
When friendship meant flying kites,
Nibbling on hotdogs, maize, and simsim balls,
Riding bicycles while counting clouds,
Creating musicals on a grassy stage.

I miss the days
When friendship was walking to church in long white socks,
Whistling at flowers, tossing rocks.

Now,
Conversations have become a pounding drum,
Dreams have turned into sermons,
Invitations disguised as pitches to join a mastermind class—
“If you don’t buy my book, you don’t love me!” they cry,
Even if the book doesn’t speak to you, your honesty has no place.

Enjoy the ride of self-help,
Business for breakfast,
Lectures for lunch,
Tidbits of tips for tea.
And all this, they say, is meant to help you grow.

Yet, each time they call, you shrink.
Another condescending reminder
About your lack of commitment.
So many people are “committed” these days.

Are we all losing it?
“Subscribe now and get one free!”
“This offer lasts a week!”
“Three steps to greatness!”
But all I want
Are the three steps back to my friend’s heart.

It’s not time that’s changed us.
Blaming age is lazy.
Claiming life just happened is absurd.
Our friendship wasn’t something that happened.
It was who we were.