Near the end of my dream, there were bears.
Large bears.
Chained bears.
Enough bears to make anyone nervous.
My sister was terrified.
So I picked her up and carried her.
While carrying a fully grown adult, I remember saying something like:
“Look at this. A thirty-year-old horse and I’m carrying her around.”
Dreams are strange.
But the feeling wasn’t.
Because all of us have carried people.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
We carry friends through breakups.
Parents through difficult phases.
Colleagues through stress.
Partners through uncertainty.
Children through fear.
Sometimes we carry people who are perfectly capable of walking.
Not because they are weak.
But because for a brief moment, they need someone else’s strength.
The funny thing is that we rarely notice when others are carrying us.
We remember our generosity.
We forget their patience.
We remember our sacrifices.
We forget their support.
Maybe adulthood is one long relay race of carrying and being carried.
One day you’re the person doing the lifting.
The next day you’re the one grateful that somebody stayed beside you until your legs worked again.
And perhaps that is what friendship really is.
Not independence.
Not dependence.
But taking turns carrying the weight.
