YOU are quite possessive you know, I said looking squarely at my best friend. “I have to be Bob, you’ve got too many friends I don’t approve off,” said my best friend with a smile. “You don’t approve of most of my friends,” I complained. “You don’t need them when you have me. That friend of yours you were trying to nurse yesterday.”
“Ah you mean my friend, the bottle of scotch?” “You don’t need friends like that Bob, or that other friend of yours you were chatting up at that party” “She was pretty wasn’t she?” “She was no doubt, but I didn’t like the look in your eyes. You’re married you know, let somebody else feel that way about her. Not you!” “You are possessive you know,” I said to my best friend. “Is it a heavy price you have to pay for my friendship?” “Sometimes,” I said, “I feel it is. But you have been with me when all my other friends deserted me. You have stayed by my side.” “And carried you often Bob.” “Yes, and stood by me when I was alone. You have walked with me when the whole world abandoned me. Talked with me when all had sent me to Coventry.”
“They were lovely conversations we had.” “I know, but can’t you be less possessive?” My best friend smiled and looked at me. “Maybe Bob I love you so much I can’t share you with those you want to keep as friends. If you choose to be with them then I would have to leave you to them.”
“Why can’t you be like other friends?” “And share you with others?” “Yes.” “So, choose those I love to be with,” said my best friend.” Choose those who love me, those who choose to call me also as their best friend. Choose those, who have felt my arms around them, those that walk with me.” “Can’t I have both kinds?” I asked my best friend.
“You want both, don’t you Bob? I watch you keep the company of those who will only lead you deeper into wrong. Those who only want to see you slide deeper into death, decay, debauchery. Those who give you pleasure but no joy. I watch and my eyes grow sad.” “Like I said, you are too possessive.”
“Is it being possessive to think only the best for you? Is it being possessive to guide you through paths of righteousness? Is it being possessive when I allow you to rest in green pastures, when I help you relax near still waters? Is it being possessive that I love you so much?” I looked up at my best friend, and I shook my head to see His pain. “No God,” I whispered. “Am I glad you are my best friend…!”
