Lone Rider

We've been friends a long time.  A long time ago we were more.  Occasionally we still are.  He's stalwart and yet far to compassionate all at once.  His unspoken need to "save" those around him, even when they've given no effort of their own to be saved has been his greatest accomplishment and downfall.  At the end of the day the only peace he seems to find s on his bike.  Riding alone through the twist and turns as though he can outrun those that will be waiting to ask his favour.

No matter how many times I've attempted to help him step back and take a breath before diving headlong into another one of his crusades, he slips through my fingers like smoke.  Assuring me that he's fine.  He can handle it all.  And he does.  Right up and until it all becomes too much for him to stand, and then he comes back, spends a night or two seeking solace in a place that no one knows about, with a woman he's come to call family.  We sit in silence, laughter.  Joke, and share thoughts, ideas, cares, successes, and secrets.  We breathe life into the other until the next crusade comes calling.