living room door when she went to bed that night because I couldn’t turn the handle anyway. Like I said, I’m not a superhero; I can’t see through walls or blow out forest fires with one breath. My special power is friendship. I listen to people and I hear what they say. I hear their tones, the words they use to express themselves, and most importantly, I hear what they don’t say. Sighs and silences and avoided conversations are just as important as the things you do talk about.
So all I could do that night was think about my new friend Luke. I need to do that occasionally. I make notes in my head so that I can file a report for admin. They like to keep it all on record for training purposes. We’ve new people joining up all the time and in fact, when I’m between friends, I lecture.
I needed to think about why I was here. What made Luke want to see me? How could he benefit from my friendship? The business is run extremely professionally and we must always provide the company with a brief history of our friends and then list our aims and objectives. Naturally, I was very good at identifying the problem straightaway, but this scenario was slightly baffling. You see, I’d never been friends with an adult before and I’m not jumping the gun here, but whenever anyone can sense me in any way it means that they need me and that we’re supposed to be friends. It’s my whole meaning for existence, trust me, I know . Anyone who has ever met an adult would understand why I’ve never been friends with one. There’s no sense of fun with them, they stick rigidly to schedules and times, they focus on the most unimportant things imaginable, like mortgages and bank statements, when everyone knows that the majority of the time it’s the people around them that put the smiles on their faces. It’s all work and no play and I work hard, I really do, but playing is by far my favorite.
Take, for example, Elizabeth; she lies in bed worrying about car tax and phone bills, babysitters and paint colors. If you can’t put magnolia on a wall then there are always a million other colors you can use, if you can’t pay your phone bill then just write letters telling them. I’m not playing down the importance of these things, yes you need money for food, yes you need food to survive, but you also need sleep to have energy, to smile to be happy, and to be happy so you can laugh, just so you don’t keel over with a heart attack. People forget they have options. And they forget that those things really don’t matter. They should concentrate on what they have and not what they don’t have. And by the way, wishing and dreaming doesn’t mean concentrating on what you don’t have, it’s positive thinking that encourages hoping and believing, not whinging and moaning. But I’m veering away from the story again.
I worried about my job a little the night I was locked in the living room. It’s the first time that ever happened. I worried because I couldn’t figure out why I was there. Luke had a difficult family scenario, but that was normal and I could tell he felt loved. He was happy and loved playing, he slept well at night, ate all his food, had a nice friend called Sam, and when he spoke I listened and listened and tried to hear the words he wasn’t saying but there was nothing. He liked living with his aunt, was scared of his mom, and liked talking about vegetables with his granddad. But Luke seeing me every day and wanting to play with me every day meant that I definitely needed to be here for him.
On the other hand, his aunt never slept, ate very little, was constantly surrounded by silence so loud that it was deafening, she had nobody close to her to talk to, that I had seen yet anyway, and she didn’t say far more than she actually did say. She had heard me say thank you once, felt my breath a few times, and heard me squeak on the leather couch. Yet she couldn’t see me, nor could she stand the thought of me being in her
So all I could do that night was think about my new friend Luke. I need to do that occasionally. I make notes in my head so that I can file a report for admin. They like to keep it all on record for training purposes. We’ve new people joining up all the time and in fact, when I’m between friends, I lecture.
I needed to think about why I was here. What made Luke want to see me? How could he benefit from my friendship? The business is run extremely professionally and we must always provide the company with a brief history of our friends and then list our aims and objectives. Naturally, I was very good at identifying the problem straightaway, but this scenario was slightly baffling. You see, I’d never been friends with an adult before and I’m not jumping the gun here, but whenever anyone can sense me in any way it means that they need me and that we’re supposed to be friends. It’s my whole meaning for existence, trust me, I know . Anyone who has ever met an adult would understand why I’ve never been friends with one. There’s no sense of fun with them, they stick rigidly to schedules and times, they focus on the most unimportant things imaginable, like mortgages and bank statements, when everyone knows that the majority of the time it’s the people around them that put the smiles on their faces. It’s all work and no play and I work hard, I really do, but playing is by far my favorite.
Take, for example, Elizabeth; she lies in bed worrying about car tax and phone bills, babysitters and paint colors. If you can’t put magnolia on a wall then there are always a million other colors you can use, if you can’t pay your phone bill then just write letters telling them. I’m not playing down the importance of these things, yes you need money for food, yes you need food to survive, but you also need sleep to have energy, to smile to be happy, and to be happy so you can laugh, just so you don’t keel over with a heart attack. People forget they have options. And they forget that those things really don’t matter. They should concentrate on what they have and not what they don’t have. And by the way, wishing and dreaming doesn’t mean concentrating on what you don’t have, it’s positive thinking that encourages hoping and believing, not whinging and moaning. But I’m veering away from the story again.
I worried about my job a little the night I was locked in the living room. It’s the first time that ever happened. I worried because I couldn’t figure out why I was there. Luke had a difficult family scenario, but that was normal and I could tell he felt loved. He was happy and loved playing, he slept well at night, ate all his food, had a nice friend called Sam, and when he spoke I listened and listened and tried to hear the words he wasn’t saying but there was nothing. He liked living with his aunt, was scared of his mom, and liked talking about vegetables with his granddad. But Luke seeing me every day and wanting to play with me every day meant that I definitely needed to be here for him.
On the other hand, his aunt never slept, ate very little, was constantly surrounded by silence so loud that it was deafening, she had nobody close to her to talk to, that I had seen yet anyway, and she didn’t say far more than she actually did say. She had heard me say thank you once, felt my breath a few times, and heard me squeak on the leather couch. Yet she couldn’t see me, nor could she stand the thought of me being in her
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