Saving My Dear Friend

It was a morning in mid-July 2008 when I set out to make my regular visit to a dear old friend of mine — a man I had known for a long time by the name of Savings.

He was a wise, quiet man. And in the corner of his house, sitting on a worn wooden shelf, was something he had kept for as long as I could remember — a small, heavy figure he called Gold. Gold never spoke much. He never promised anything. He simply sat there, unchanged, year after year, while everything else in Savings' house came and went.

Most of my young friends — men and women between twenty-five and forty-two — had stopped visiting Savings altogether. They had grown too busy, or perhaps too proud, during what I came to think of as “the modern time.” They avoided his eyes. They stopped returning his calls. And yet Savings never once thought of leaving them — especially not during the difficult times, when they needed him most.

They were, without quite realising it, caught between chasing exotic dreams and facing unglamorous realities. To them, Savings had become an expired friend — outdated, unnecessary, and dull.

One afternoon, I stopped a friend on the street and asked about his strange attitude toward Savings.

He could barely spare me a minute. He said he was busy fighting crowds of people for the attention of a beautiful creature called Employment. He assured me, already half-running, that once he captured Employment, he would have time to sit down and talk about Savings.

I asked myself: does Employment really have that much beauty to attract nearly all of my friends? And what about my other friend, Entrepreneur — the one everyone admired from a distance but few had the courage to approach?

On my way to Savings' place, I spotted three old friends in a restaurant, having lunch and enjoying what turned out to be a rare break. I stopped to say hello and found them deep in conversation — talking about how they had been trapped by Employment, and how difficult it was to leave her and join Entrepreneur.

I suggested they come with me to visit Savings for his advice.

They appreciated the thought. But they showed no real interest. They promised to visit him the moment they managed to leave Employment and join Entrepreneur — as if the two things had to happen in that order.

I didn't fully understand their hesitation at the time. But then again, I had seen the same pattern with so many others — attracted more and more to a captivating woman called Desires, while her older, plainer sisters Needs and Wants stood nearby, unnoticed.

I was sure of one thing: anyone caught between Employment and Desires would have no easy way out of that loop.

I stood up to leave and continue my journey. As I turned to go, one of my friends — the one eating a burger — leaned toward my ear and whispered that I should remind Savings to transfer all his belongings to Savings' younger brother, a restless boy called Speculations.

Then he turned to the table and announced, with some pride, that he had already decided to move everything he owned to another brother — Investments — calling it the smart thing to do.

I walked away puzzled. What had driven him to hand everything to Speculations, while telling everyone else he was going to Investments? And did my other friends understand the difference between the two brothers, or had they stopped caring?

I told myself it was not my business. Everyone has the right to say whatever they wish. And the people listening are mature enough to interpret whatever they hear.

When I arrived at Savings' house, I found the old man sitting on his worn couch, carefully sorting through piles of my friends' belongings.

I asked, with some amazement, what he was doing.

He told me his younger brother Speculations was coming in a few minutes to collect everything. Speculations had convinced my friends that he would take their belongings on an adventure — a deep-sea dive — and return with even more treasures from the ocean floor.

I stared at Savings in disbelief.

Had the promise of quick returns overtaken their caution? Or had they simply weighed the odds differently than I would have?

I sat down on the ground beside Savings' couch and watched in silence as Speculations and Investments arrived, loading belongings into bags as fast as they could.

And there, in the corner, on the same wooden shelf where he had always been, sat Gold — untouched. Nobody had asked for him. Nobody thought he was worth taking on the adventure. He was too plain, too slow, too boring for the deep-sea voyage.

At that moment — a moment I have never forgotten — Savings turned to look at me. His old, wise face carried a frightening expression.

He told me not to worry. He said, with quiet certainty, that all my friends would come back one day.

But they would come back in wheelchairs.

Then he glanced at Gold, still sitting on the shelf, and added something I did not fully understand until much later:

“The ones who left something here — who left even a small piece with him — they won't be running. But they'll still be walking.”

That was the summer before the collapse of Lehman Brothers in September 2008. The sea swallowed nearly everything Speculations had carried away. Many of my friends came back to Savings' door, just as he had predicted — broken, humbled, searching for whatever they had left behind.

The ones who had left even a little with Gold found something still sitting on that shelf. It had not grown into a fortune. It had not multiplied like the deep-sea promises. But it was there. Solid, heavy, and unchanged — exactly where they had left it.

Years later, I still visit Savings from time to time. And I always notice Gold, sitting quietly in the corner, promising nothing, guaranteeing nothing, but never leaving.

I am not here to tell you what to do with your belongings. That decision has always been — and will always be — yours alone. Different people have different needs, different timelines, and different tolerances for risk.

I only know that every now and then, I think back to that July morning — not with answers, but with the same questions I had then, still unanswered.