One of my favorite parts of being a grown-up is seeing my friends in their adult lives. It remains a curiosity to watch a friend from high school take his three year-old to Disney On Ice, when I can still see him playing air guitar at my doorstep. Or the best friend from college whose hair I held back as she puked into a wicker basket, now doing exactly what she set out to do in her career. We all grew up together and now we’re doing the thing.
Some friends end up exactly where you might have expected they would. Others take significant plot twists that shock, delight or do a little bit of both…the friend who traveled to Africa and then never moved back, the friend who transitioned genders, the friend who became a famous author, the friend who chose not to have kids and is living her best life as a college professor with the unwavering support of her husband. I love all of their stories so deeply.
As childhood friendships age, the intimacy seems to fade. Rather than the daily rapport in dormitory hallways or being locker neighbors in high-school, where so many of our experiences were commonly shared, visits with friends become occasional coffee dates or chatting over wine. There is a sense of loss, or nostalgia for the charged, excited youthfulness of childhood friendships, because everyone is busy living their own lives with their families, partners and children. We no longer belong to each other in a way that we did. And that’s okay. I think that’s part of being a grown-up, although I’m no expert on the subject yet.
There is comfort being with people who were a witness to your youth. Especially when life is derailed, its reassuring to have friends who knew your heart when things were less messy. It is also from these friends that I have found unwavering support when things get hard. Seeing the lives of our childhood friends isn’t always pleasant. There are deaths of parents, who we once took for granted as a shuttle service to school dances or volleyball practices, struggles with fertility that no one would have foreseen, the loss of jobs, and the loss of relationships.
I just turned 38. While it is a wonder to see my childhood friends in adulthood, it can be just as surreal to be living your own life as an adult. I’d be curious to know what my 14- year-old self would think of our life now? I wish I could tell her that she shouldn’t worry so much. She’ll eventually be kissed. She’ll work in bakeries and make beautiful cakes. She’ll have two gorgeous little girls that like the Wizard of Oz as much as she does. I’d leave the rest for her to figure out because I know she’ll be okay.
There is nothing very special about turning 38. It doesn’t mark any milestones, but this year feels particularly charged with possibility. As I look at my friends whom I knew in sandboxes and on prom dance floors, I see them doing remarkable things, and sometimes remarkably difficult things. I am doing the same and its impossible to know what might happen next. So, I’ll tell myself not to worry so much, you’ll eventually be kissed, you'll make beautiful cakes and you'll have two gorgeous daughters with you. It's going to be okay.
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