We can talk, and talk, and talk …

My best friend and I were on the phone for more than four hours last night. It's so comfortable. It's almost easier, maybe even more intimate, than talking face to face. I don't know why, really. Perhaps it's because we get to see each other so infrequently that our live, in-person, real-time encounters always feel a little too important for the kind of easy exchange we had last night.

He's not happy, but he's not miserable. He's just dissatisfied with his life. He feels aimless in his career and misunderstood by his family. In short, he's 40.

I don't mean to be flippant. I understand oh-so completely. I know exactly what he's going through, because I've been there. And in a way, that's what's annoying me. What's the point of both of us going through this shit? Wouldn't it be great if only one of us had to experience it, and the other could just learn by observing?

If only I could fix this for him. If only I could give him the answers he's looking for. But I can't. Just like I can't keep him warm in the rain or safe in the night.

All I can do is be there for him. Maybe make him laugh occasionally. And listen when he wants to talk, and talk, and talk …