I stop by a friend's on the way home from Columbia. After I've rock climbed for the first time in two months. After I've sat with a loved one over pizza and root beer and discussed where our lives are headed. How they're dividing.

But I stop by a friend's. He sits at the kitchen table, playing with his iPad. I pull up a chair.

We start with light conversation. Jobs. Living situations. Weekend vacations.

But then he turns to me. He leans toward me in his chair. Pushes the iPad aside. Looks into me.

He tells me about positivity. About exuding it into the world. About embracing it in any circumstance. Standing by it when it stands alone. Fighting for it when it's outnumbered.

His girlfriend enters in a white bathrobe and rests an elbow on his huge shoulder. A roommate walks over and stands in the door frame of the kitchen. They watch as I sit and absorb wisdom. Take in the gifts he is giving. They observe how deeply I'm processing this information. Whether I'm worthy of such things.

This is me putting positivity into the world, he concludes. This is me passing it onto you.

This is him being a good friend, his girlfriend adds.

I thank him. I don't know how many times I thank him. I offer some sort of reimbursement, but he refuses. I offer my hand and he shakes it. I don't know how many times I shake his hand.

I stand and continue to spew gratitude. Everyone smiles and wishes for the best.

I move backwards toward the door awkwardly. Saying parting phrases and thanking and thanking.

He heads downstairs with his girlfriend. The roommate sinks back into the kitchen.

They've done what they could.

The rest is up to me.