Grateful for the Boys

I am grateful for the boys, the brothers I have chosen and wish to see prosper. It is unfortunate that English has only one word for love. The language fails to articulate the types beyond romantic love, partner to partner, and filial love, parent to child. And so, it is challenging to describe my sentiment towards my inner circle, the friends who I call the boys; the friends who are the men that make me a better man. I think it is rare to find a community or clan to which you belong and feel that sense of belonging. When I am with the boys, I belong. I am grateful for that. I would imagine deep, thick, and meaningful connections are scarcely found. I am lucky to have found it.

Amid the silliness, the jabs and jokes, there is substance in our brotherhood, our fellowship. The boys and I have matured together, and have wandered adolescence and young adulthood shoulder by shoulder. The boys support me with no conditions attached, besides that I must be better—in body, mind, everything. They demand excellence because they know I am capable of excellence. The feeling is mutual. The boys have taught me a love of which there is no word. The boys have helped teach me how to care about someone other than myself. I have learned that in this journey we all call life, we may never be alone, so long as we are capable of asking and receiving help with grace. The boys are my biggest backers. No matter the brawl, I will be in their life arenas, and I will raise their fists after any victory.

With or without me—and of course, ideally with— I want to see them happy as they wish to see me happy. I want the boys to find the job, purpose, and partner of their dreams. Their wins are my wins and their losses are mine too. Out of the seven billion people that walk this earth, I have found my tribe. I have found the people that make me wonderfully human. Relational.

I am grateful for the boys.