A Handful of Friends

I had brunch with a friend of mine today. She said that she can count on one hand the number of friends she can really rely on in times of need. I am one of those friends, which make me feel proud of my ability to be a good friend.

When I thought about this in terms of myself: How many people can I really count on and who are they, I thought again: it doesn't really matter to me. I know that if I was in need, I have friends who would be there for me.

I remember when my father died, I was amazed, touched, and honored by the presence of people at his wake and funeral. People I had worked with only a few years and old friends I hadn't spoken to in years came to show their support for me. Even an old boyfriend came; he always really liked my dad.

Is a life measured by the number of friends someone has or by the quality of those friendships? Or is a life measured by being a good friend who is there when someone needs to talk (or not talk), cry (or laugh), or be rescued (or to rescue you)?