Being Bahama

My Friend

I finally heard from my friend again last night.  

Wait.  Did I just call him my friend? 

I suppose I did.  As much as I’ve tried to keep my distance emotionally, I guess there’s really no denying that I feel a certain kinship with him at this point.  This former acquaintance has managed to breech my defenses somehow and now I’m stuck with another person I have to worry over.

I was relieved to hear that he’d easily made an escape with the help of those he knew on the inside.  I was relieved to hear that it’s unlikely I’ll be hearing from any more authorities where either my friend or my son are concerned.  I was relieved to hear that our difficulties with the Black Sun will likely be fewer… well, at least until one of our pilots has another scuffle with them. 

But most of all I’m relieved that he doesn’t blame me for his capture or hold it against me that I didn’t mount a rescue mission to save him.  I wasn’t looking forward to living with that bit of guilt.  

I’m used to worrying about the people I know and care about.  It’s so rare for the shoe to be on the other foot.  Yet, he was there, expressing concern for me when I wasn’t even fully aware of the danger I was in. I’ve taken that to heart. 

Several times he asked me to purchase some armor for protection.  I brushed him off without a second thought.  But that was before.  Now?  Well, I wouldn’t call it armor per-se.   It’s more like a padded undershirt, but I’ve purchased it and will wear it as he advised me to.

Though we appear to have very little in common and we clearly have different perspectives and views, I’m grateful that our paths have crossed.  I’m not going to be spreading it around that I associate with fugitives… but nevertheless, I’m honored to call him my friend.