Random Thoughts on 32 Years of Friendship
A solo car ride is the perfect time for me to squeeze in uninterrupted contemplation. On my way to any given destination, random thoughts wander in and out of my mind like deviant tumbleweeds, and I’ll choose the most entertaining one to untangle as I pensively drive along.
It’s not a full-on daydream. Unlike my husband, who I frequently catch gazing out the driver-side window at a bird or pebble, I’m more than capable of remaining focused on the road while concurrently scripting my imaginary podcasts. I haven’t crashed in over 30 years, so don’t come at me!
A few days before Christmas, I was heading to my friend Hilda’s house for a pre-holiday lunch with the third member of our trio Karen. The quiet drive was a perfect opportunity for me to relax and reflect on the meaning behind the afternoon’s festivities.
Hilda, Karen, and I have been friends for almost 32 years. Because of our ridiculous schedules, we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like to, but when we do, we pick up right where we left off, keepin’ it real and laughing our asses off, and this happy reunion would be another such occasion.
I’ll admit, I got a little weepy thinking about our shared history, and how auspiciously long that history has been. Hilda and Karen have been my friends for more than half of my life, and the longer we live, the more space they will take up in my timeline.
We’ve seen each other through breakups and ridiculous exes, job changes, birthdays, marriages, the death of parents, new homes, weight loss journeys, weight gain journeys, gluten intolerances, personal triumphs, bad hair days, PMS meltdowns, and most of the universal experiences of ordinary life. Still, as important as all those unifying events are, they’re just a part of why thinking about my friendship with Hilda and Karen got me so misty eyed.
These two ineffably beautiful women have witnessed the shittiest version of me evolve into the best versions of me, from the girl who made sure her wounds bled all over everyone else to the woman who made her career and entire life’s mission to staunch the bleeding for others. They walked with me in my darkest days and loved me straight through to the other side.
Ugh, there I go, getting all weepy again.
I wasn’t a complete asshole back then in the early days of our friendship – just deeply unfinished. I did have some redeeming qualities, or else I wouldn’t have been able to maintain their friendship for 30+ years. The majority of my friendships today are long-term, some established even before I met Hilda and Karen, and I’ll get to those another time, but that day my internal Ted Talk was about the two besties I was on my way to share the afternoon with.
As always, Karen was late (it’s part of her charm), but when the three of us were eventually all situated around the granite-top island of Hilda’s fabulous newly designed kitchen, I told them what I had been thinking about on my way over, and we all agreed on one thing – we were so damn lucky to have each other. Lifers, baby!
We laughed over memories from our collective past (like the weekend get-aways to Wildwood) and caught up on the latest developments in our day-to-day lives (like Hilda removing some foliage from her dog’s butt), savoring the kind of indescribable connection that is sculpted and made flawless over decades of friendship.
Hilda and Karen are the kind of friends with whom I can be brazenly vulnerable, and not like the “Whoops, I farted” kind, but rather the “Guys, when I was in the hospital getting my gallbladder out, my poop looked like juiced asparagus for days” kind, and they don’t even blink. It’s the intensity of disclosure that counts.
The three of us have very different and distinctive personalities, but somehow we just fit. Friendships like these don’t just make life survivable – they make it sweeter. For those of you who have this kind of loving friendship, you know exactly what I’m talking about. For those of you who don’t, I sincerely hope you find your own Hilda and Karen someday. Mine are deeply loved and utterly priceless, and will be for the next 32 years.
Then and Now
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