Aren't You Damn Lucky

I was sitting quietly at the table,
Eating pizza
(customary forensic tournament food).
With many of my friends.
There was talk
But it was mostly theirs.

This one friend of mine,
She was complaining,
As she had been all day,
About this boy,
Who goes to different school
In a city an hour's drive away,
Who she had a fling with through forensics
She was moaning
About how he said their relationship
"was a mistake"
And she
"wasn't girlfriend material."

If it had been three days ago,
Or a different friend
(who hadn't been rehashing this all day),
I would've reacted
Kinder.
I would've comforted her,
Boulstered her up,
And tore him down.

But I didn't.

"Well aren't you damn lucky
(Pardon the language)
That's all you've got to complain about today.
My cousin just died recently.
Eighteen with muscular distrophy
And the dreams he could've accomplished through God
Are dust.
Aren't you damn lucky
(Pardon the language)
That you're alive,
Your family's alive,
And you have use of every bit of the body
God gave you.
Aren't you damn lucky
(Pardon the language)
That you get to be here,
Instead of breathing only with help,
Instead of in a coffin.
Aren't you damn lucky
(Pardon the language)
That you can do whatever you set your mind to.
Set your body to.

My cousin is dead
But oh,
I'm sorry.
You're having boy troubles.
Just another failed teenage relationship.
That puts my pain into perspective,
Doesn't it?"

No, reader,
You're right.
That kind of standing up for yourself
Only happens in Disney sitcoms.
Rather,
I sat there in silence
And prayed to God
She'd never feel my pain.