On old friends.
There’s something about old friends. Like, the kind of old that goes back to second grade. Or at least seventh. These are the kinds of souls that are woven together with yours, that no matter how long it goes between chats and coffee dates and sleepovers, you will always be able to pick up right where you left off. These friendships don’t take explanation. You don’t have to describe your past to them because they are your past; they’re your family. The deepness of these friendships continues to astound me. There’s something so beautiful about someone who can see the whole arc of your journey thus far, someone who saw you in your most awkward stage and didn’t laugh or leave, someone who you had blow-out fights with yet stuck by your side, someone who walked with you through all the drama and pain and heartache of middle and high school and who didn’t desert you, but stayed long enough to be part of your grown-up life too. I love being that friend and I love having those friends. They touch my heart in a way nothing else does, and I love this knowledge deep in my heart that, if we’ve come this far and seen each other through so much crap, we’re going to stay together always. These are forever friends, friends that go to the deepest part of my heart.
But want to know what else I love? When new friends, the ones you’ve just had for a couple years, start becoming old friends. It’s that shift from college friends to forever friends, those few who, even if they move far away or get married and do different things, will always be in your life, will always be your inner circle.
It’s these old friends, these kindred spirits, that I hold onto when life is uncertain or I feel a little lost. Through seasons of change and shifting they listen and give wisdom, comfort, commiseration. They understand me to my very core, no matter how different we are on the outside. And let me tell you, that is such a sweet thing to have.