A dear friend isn't doing well. We haven't seen each other since last fall though up until then a week would not go by without a phone call or lunch date. I miss her company and wry sense of humor and how I have never felt like a guest in her home. I'm having to remind myself to be generous when selfishness sets in. Because it's not about me. It's about her. She has always been a very private person and I struggle with respecting that when all I want to do is show up at her door with a casserole and books and movies and dessert and give her the mothering that she has proffered upon so many others. She is aware I would do anything she asked, even give her a kidney or half of my liver. So I'm giving her the privacy she wants. Because it's about her comfort, not mine.