In Good Company

When I was in my twenties a scuba diving accident landed me in the hospital for ten days. I was living in California, and though I didn’t have any family nearby I had a lot of friends. They all rallied around and visited me often and while most of them made a concerted effort to cheer me up, what I remember best was my friend Jules. She was taking an art class at a local community college and would stop by in between work and school. I’d wake up and see her sitting in the chair sketching. I’d say “hey” and she’d look up and smile and say “hey” and then she’d go back to sketching and I’d go back to sleep. When I’d wake up again, there’d be a sketch of my feet, or of the view out the window, propped up for me on my nightstand.

There was something extraordinarily comforting knowing that she was there, and that I didn’t have to do anything. She wasn’t trying to entertain or distract me.  She was just quietly keeping me company on my journey.

I like to think that’s what I have to offer with my writing and with the photos that I take. I can’t fix anything. I can’t change the trajectory of the planet’s health - or that of my friends, but I can quietly keep them company on their journey and perhaps leave them something I’ve written, or a photograph, on their nightstand.