Girlhood

My friends are spread out across the country, like a bright constellation in the night sky. They twinkle, forever present, but some too far to touch. I visit places like Cleveland and San Diego and see cities in their most gorgeous light, through the eyes and routines of those I love. I marvel at the communities they’ve built. We drink wine, visit trendy bakeries, spend time in local parks and museums.

The older I get the less the actual places matter. The skyscrapers and coffee shops are merely sets, my friends taking center stage. It’s the comfort of being in the same place, together, curled up on the couch or sitting at dinner. It’s the absence of needing anything to talk about. It’s spending too long trying on clothes for a night out, discussing jobs, life plans, and our current favorite things to snack on at Trader Joe’s. It’s late night talks in bed, our laughter floating above us in the dark.

Much like stars, these women help me navigate the world. I want to be like them, brave, smart, wise, caring, and witty. Even when far away I marvel at their accomplishments, their perseverance. I celebrate new jobs and partners. Our lives become increasingly grown-up. I try to ignore the bittersweetness of this increased complexity, the details I may have missed.

Once we are in person the trappings of life fall away. We are little girls on the monkey bars. We are back in college, pushing our beds together, making a home away from home. Those feelings manifest in new ways, giggling in the sauna instead of the pool, comparing planners instead of stickers. How wonderful to let go of carrying the world on our shoulders, to succumb to being known so deeply.

My friends feel it too, the ease of being together, like changing into sweats after a whole day wearing jeans. At a Chicago wine bar, my friend remarks on how wonderful it would be if we all lived in the same place, where we could hang out, like this, without prior planning. We dream of communes, raising kids all together. We dream of owning bakeries right next to farms. Knowing these women, being so seen and appreciated, is an immense privilege. We all feel it, but we are not sappy, we do not say it often. I write it in birthday cards, tuck it into a speech at my friend’s wedding. I try not to, but I tear up at the airport every time. I feel incredibly lucky.