The Architecture of Friendship

The other evening Robert and I were out and about here in Historic District Savannah when we happened upon a young couple. Strangers. The young man was perched on the sidewalk, photographing the striking statuary in the front courtyard of The Telfair Museum when we walked by.

He started up a conversation by showing us his terrific black and white pics. We hit it off immediately and went to World of Beer where we enjoyed a couple of hours of newfound camaraderie, discovering a truckload of common interests and concerns. Great fun.

As we were finally saying our goodbyes, the young man suggested that he take a picture of our feet together. I cherish out-of the-blue ideas like that!

We all loved the result. And we appreciated the truth of the young man’s closing comment: “Now we’re all in the stream together.”

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About Standing (in Kinship)

We all have the same little bones in our feet
twenty-six with funny names like navicular.
Together they build something strong—
our foot arch a pyramid holding us up.
The bones don’t get casts when they break.
We tape them—one phalange to its neighbor for support.
(Other things like sorrow work that way, too—
find healing in the leaning, the closeness.)
Our feet have one quarter of all the bones in our body.
Maybe we should give more honor to feet
and to all those tiny but blessed cogs in the world—
communities, the forgotten architecture of friendship.

— Kimberly Blaeser