A poet friend sometimes sends the slightest of messages, a single word.
havoc
And I’ll offer one back.
hermetic
Weeks later, repeat.
scaffolding
sinews
Sometimes our call-and-response is more than a hand’s worth.
distillery, usher, lucent, tamarisk tree, spume, eel
peen, hasp, smudge, aglet, philtrum, nape
Sometimes my one word elicits a list.
pelagic
compadre companion tandem resonance
amity abacus dolmathes avgolemono
I would call this my quietest perpetually present friendship. She and I go months without speaking, weeks without writing, but somehow a quiet presence abides. These wee word-lists are one of our bonds, a form of play I share with no one else.
Now that I think about it, there’s so much that is playful. First, to send just a word. It says both “I am thinking about this word” and “I am thinking about you.” It is, like the simplest definition of play, purely for enjoyment rather than toward a purpose. It expects nothing back, but it hopes. It wonders, “What will you make of this?” And the recipient responds — with surprise, with pleasure in receiving such an odd message, with gladness for the gift, and with reciprocity.
What word shall I give? The one most on my mind at the moment? Something alliterative? Same part of speech? Same degree of unusualness?
Sometimes these words make it into sentences and poems and paragraphs. But we rarely send those. Our exchanges feel a little like the times we’ve spent sitting in a tea shop or a living room together, reading, writing, working, mostly in companionable silence, grateful for each other’s presence.
If we analyzed all of our exchanges, we could probably discern some complex, unwritten but tacitly agreed-on rules and make it a game. That would squeeze the life out of it. It’s different every time (number of words, time of day, length of exchanges, whether it grows into conversation or is its own poetic sandwich embreaded by silence). Yet it’s the same (sort of like tossing a ball back and forth, if the ball were a large and unbreaking soap bubble, transparent, barely visible, moving at wobbly breath-speed rather than hand-toss velocity, pausing, hovering, waiting to be breath-blown back).
They come in texts, in private messages, on postcards (tautologous, pullulate, cantata). They give peeks into a mind at work and play, always wondering.
I’d guess there’s an element of play in all enduring friendships. In some of my friendships we send each other photos or links and sometimes gifts related to a shared enthusiasm (ALDI bargains, parades, chickens in the news). In others, playful teasing and shared jokes bind us and weave the fabric of our friendship stronger.
Perhaps this play is one of the things that determine whether an acquaintanceship will cross the invisible boundary into solid, for-keeps friendship. We don’t plan it or force it. It just happens. And even if the form of play is similar in some friendships, the texture of each is as distinct as a fingerprint.
To Discuss With Friends (Or Use in Personal Journaling)
1. What common elements of play do you see in your friendships? Is there a way you tend to be playful in friendship?
2. Think of specific enduring friendships and the elements that hold each one together. What playfulness is involved? Do you remember how this just-the-two-of-you play began or evolved?
3. What words, common phrases, shared jokes do you and a friend share?
4. How do you keep in playful contact with friends you might see only once a year or less?
5. Is silence a steadying or structural element in a friendship? How so?
_______________
If you choose to write about any of the above, feel free to come back and share a link to what you’ve written. If you don’t have an online writing space, then drop in an excerpt for our community to enjoy.
Photo by 白士 李, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Laura Brown.
Browse more Friendship Project
- Pandemic Journal: An Entry on Pencil Balancing - August 4, 2020
- Between Friends: Wordplay and Other Playful Bonds - July 25, 2019
- The Power of Curiosity: “Can I Touch Your Hair?” by Irene Latham & Charles Waters - May 29, 2019
Bethany R. says
clever light-footed mirth-sketch
Laura Lynn Brown says
notice respond hyphenate
thanks
L.L. Barkat says
I do believe this: “I’d guess there’s an element of play in all enduring friendships.”
True play is a space-making activity. It’s also generative. Both seem vital for a lasting friendship. (Although I suppose there are cases where the friendship is more designed to keep something in check and prevent growth. I’m not sure I’d call that friendship, so much, though.)
I think my favorite play tends to be mostly verbal. Other than that, it’s probably ritual that holds things together a little more than play. If I can make someone a cup of tea, that is what I’ll do. (This is one hard thing for me about online friendships. I tend to rely fairly heavily on silent rituals, and the requirement to put everything into words and to be *on* makes it less-than-optimal, at least for me. 🙂 Yet, here we are. 🙂
Thanks for the glimpse of this friendship play of yours, Laura. 🙂 (The post should have a warning to come with a dictionary in hand. 😉 )
Laura Lynn Brown says
Thanks for bringing up the importance of ritual. Do you think a Venn diagram of friendship sustainers would have an overlap of ritual and play?
There are probably exceptions, but I think true friendship requires some in-person time together. This friendship began in person and is renewed occasionally in person. Several times a year, the space around and between these and other written exchanges leads to a long phone call, where there’s more play, good questions, keen listening, analysis, laughter — the kind of talk that leads to growth, desires growth for each other, reflects growth back to each other. There are some objects that mark waypoints — a small notebook, a teapot, a blue blanket — and rituals, such as one of us leaving the door open for the other to come in for a morning of quiet writing together.
I like that ritual of making tea. It speaks care.
Laura Willis says
Long-distance improv.
The answer is never “No”.
Each exchange opens the door for a response.
Lovely.
Sandra Heska King says
Yes.
Doubly. Snugly. Cuddly. Smugly. Gruffly.
lynn__ says
You mentioned chickens and I think of a friend who had pet chickens, Henry & Henrietta, in her backyard when we were kids. We share history, school memories, secrets, nicknames, and laughter…still do, long-distance with birthday gifts/cards/phone calls. Our calls usually end with the word, “shalom.”
Sandra Heska King says
Laura, we once had a Henry and Henrietta. We bought them (or maybe they were given to us) at the county fair. They turned into Henry I and Henry II.
Laurie Klein says
Laura, what entertaining, empowering word volleys! Your delightful mutual practice reminds me a little of those little collages artists exchange: trading cards, I think they’re called.
“We don’t plan it or force it. It just happens. And even if the form of play is similar in some friendships, the texture of each is as distinct as a fingerprint.”
Had to look up pullulate. 🙂
Sandra Heska King says
I had to look it up, too. Interesting uses…
Bethany R. says
I loved reading back over this delightful post & comments. Am mulling over your thoughtful question, “Is silence a steadying or structural element in a friendship?” Thanks for this, Laura, would like to read another one of your posts. 🙂