I sat with the other trainees at a small table in the makeshift classroom. The instructor gave us some pencils and a piece of paper with which to draw our circles. In the middle of the page we were to write the personal pronoun, ‘me’ and to draw a small circle around it. Easy peasy. Done.
Then we were to write the names of the folks who were in our tightest social circle. This might include close family members and relatives, and perhaps one or two longtime family friends. I entered only one name: that of my spouse who was sitting next to me. There was no long-term friendship to write down and there were no names of relatives.
As I looked around the room I saw the other participants, lost in thought, scribbling down the names of those who meant the most to them. They drew their circles with misty eyes and lips curled slightly in a smile.
The next circle was supposed to be filled with our close friends, even our best friends, one tier removed from our kin. This circle I tried desperately to not leave blank, but I had just entered a new community and a new church where I didn’t really know anyone.
I wrote the name of one lady who had just begun to befriend me a few weeks prior. The lady from the post office and the bank made it unto this short list too. I might not have bothered to even write the names of the last two, but I felt I was riding the short end of the stick. And publicly.