We Still Have People to Meet
Years ago, when my daughter was navigating the sometimes-painful world of school friendships, she asked me how I had become friends with certain people.
I told her the stories; where we met, how we connected, how we became close. Some of my truest friends were people I hadn’t even known until my mid-to-late twenties. I remember wanting her to understand that the people in her life at that moment weren’t the only people she would ever have.
“You might carry one or two close friends with you from these years,” I told her. “But you still have so many people to meet.”
When you’re young, your world can feel as small as a school hallway. A changing friendship can feel like a verdict on who you are. I wanted her to know there was a whole life ahead of her, filled with people who would come to know and love versions of herself she hadn’t even become yet.
Looking at my own friendships now, I understand that even more.
There’s Jenny, who has been part of my life since the beginning. Our moms were best friends, and we went to preschool and elementary school together. Before either of us had much of a story, we were already in each other’s.
As we grew up, life took us in different directions. We weren’t always involved in each other’s everyday lives, but I never questioned whether we were still friends. That knowledge was simply there.
Now that our kids are grown, we’ve found our way back to a different kind of closeness. Our friendship looks different from the one we had as little girls, but it still gives me that familiar feeling of belonging. There is something comforting about being with someone who knew you long before all the roles and responsibilities you’ve collected along the way.
Then there’s Heidi.
In high school, we were involved in different activities and sports, and our paths barely crossed. From a distance, I thought she seemed a little mean and intimidating. She thought I was a bit of a nerd.
Apparently, neither of us should have trusted our first impressions.
Somewhere along the way, when I had her son as a student and she began working at the school, we started getting to know each other. We discovered how much we had in common, especially when it came to our kids. Her daughter watched my children for a couple of days a week after school. One connection led to another, and over time, we became friends.
Now we spend Fridays on the lake, vacation together, and do this fun online thing called Hold On! Here’s the Thing.
Neither of those high school girls would have seen that coming.
There are also the friends I’ve met through work. People who began as coworkers and became the ones I could count on during a difficult day, personally or professionally. Somewhere between shared responsibilities, conversations, and laughter, they became a kind of family.
And there are the friendships that begin through mutual friends or family. You meet someone without any expectation, find an easy connection, and gradually start making room for each other in your lives.
I am blessed with the best friends a woman could have. Some I see or talk with daily or weekly. Others, it may be a month or more between conversations. Each is special to me, connected to a different part of my life and often to a different version of me.
I haven’t always been as good as I’d like to be at reaching out or making plans. I’m grateful for friends who understand that a quiet stretch doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring. But I’m also learning that even the most comfortable friendships deserve attention. Thinking of someone is lovely. Letting them know matters, too.
As I get older, I find myself less concerned with how a friendship is supposed to look. We don’t have to talk every day or be included in everything. I care more about whether we can be ourselves, whether we’re happy for each other, and whether there’s room for honesty, change, and a little grace.
Some friendships do fade. That can hurt, even when no one has done anything wrong. Our lives change, our needs change, and sometimes the connection changes with them. I’m learning to appreciate what a friendship gave me without believing it had to last forever to have mattered.
Others surprise us. They deepen, return, or begin at an age when we thought our circle was already settled.
And at the center of my life is my husband, my best friend, through it all. My kids, my mom, my two siblings and their spouses, and my husband’s family are all such important people in my life, too. They each bring their own kind of love, laughter, and belonging. There’s something wonderful about friendships within a family; loving people because they’re yours, and truly enjoying who they are.
I think back to that conversation with my daughter, and I realize the reassurance I offered her still applies to me.
We still have people to meet. We still have friendships to grow into. And sometimes, someone who has been there all along becomes close to us in a whole new way.
Maybe that’s what I understand about friendship now: belonging doesn’t have to mean keeping everything the same. The deepest friendships give us room to change, and the reassurance that we can still be loved as we do.