Celebrate your friendships

Lesson #39 of 40

As I approach 40, I’m embarking on a year-long project to reflect on the lessons I’ve learned in four decades of life. This is lesson #39. You can read the full series here.

We’ve been through a lot. So have our eyebrows and hair.

In 1995, years before Brangelina or Bennifer, there was Patie. Our fifth grade teacher, Mr. McMichael, coined the portmanteau after getting tongue-tied one too many times shouting “Paige! Katie!”

Like those iconic celebrity couples, Paige and I were inseparable. Everywhere she went, I followed. Everything I found funny, she did too. We were ten years old and had found our soulmate — the person who understood us, embraced our weirdness, and made us laugh until our sides hurt. We giggled together every chance we got. That is, until patient Mr. McMichael inevitably had to separate our desks.

The summer between fifth and sixth grade, we wrote each other letters like heartbroken lovers a sea apart. In middle school, our bond deepened over Friday night sleepovers, a shared obsession with Hanson, and a determined commitment to staying weird as the pressure to mature mounted. In high school, we shared a locker but no classes, managing to keep our friendship strong despite shifting interests. After graduation, Paige moved to Florida while I stayed in Georgia. We chose diverging paths, made new friends, hit milestones and experienced losses at different times. Once again, we were separated — this time, the distance was much greater.

But as Mr. McMichael discovered all those years ago, it’s impossible to keep us apart. This past weekend, Paige and I celebrated our 40th birthdays in Savannah, Georgia. The trip was meant to mark a birth milestone — we’re both April babies — but it turned into something even more special. It was a celebration of our friendship.

Whenever we made small talk with a waiter or shopkeeper, we’d mention that we were celebrating turning 40 ... and 30 years of friendship. Without fail, a polite smile would turn into a full-on grin. “Wow! Congratulations,” the poised waiter at a fancy restaurant told us. “That is certainly something to celebrate.”

We agreed. All weekend, Paige and I felt proud. Growing older is relatively easy. But holding onto a friendship for this long? That’s something worth honoring.

Don’t forget lesson #28: Take the photo. You’ll be grateful you did.

Like any lasting relationship, friendship takes work. It requires regular connection, through the exciting periods and the mundane moments, the good times and the bad. It demands vulnerability — being open when times are difficult, honest when the other person lets you down, and humble when you’re the one falling short. It calls for reassurance, reminding each other how much you care, how much the friendship matters.

You might also have a decades-long friendship like I do — the kind of bond that holds meaning because of its history, because of all the eras you’ve witnessed in each other, and together. Maybe you have a more recent friendship you cherish — one of those elusive friendships made in adulthood, the kind that feels magical because you know how rare it is. Or perhaps you’re grieving a lost friendship, feeling a bit lonely, searching for the one who gets you, who makes you laugh until your sides hurt. Even then, I bet there are a few people in your life who mean something special, who would love to spend more time with you.

No matter the kind of friendship, it’s worth nurturing. It’s rare and beautiful — and it probably deserves more attention.

Celebrate your friendships. That was my grand takeaway from this past weekend. A lesson I think, deep down, I’ve always known, but one I’ve neglected lately. Spending time with Paige — laughing and relaxing, sharing deep secrets and nagging regrets, opening up about the hard stuff and toasting the wins — made me feel like an abandoned part of my soul came alive.

I sometimes dismiss how crucial friends can be. I push friendship aside for other pressing responsibilities: parenting, work, rest, errands. And I suffer as a result.

What’s the secret to a long relationship? It’s something curious people often ask couples who have been together for many years. I’d love to see that question posed to friends.

For Paige and me, it’s intentional connection. We’ve lived our entire adult lives apart, but we text and call regularly (though never as often as we’d like), remember birthdays and important dates, stay honest about the hard stuff, and give ourselves permission to be the goofy, weird girls we once were.

We’ve shown up for each other — and, no doubt, disappointed each other — through love and heartache, joy and depression, financial highs and lows, births and deaths, wins and losses of all kinds. We’ve cried together, made breakthroughs together, and forgiven each other more times than we can count. And we still laugh until our stomachs ache.

And yet, in 30 years of friendship, this trip was only the second time we’ve traveled somewhere, just the two of us. There were always a million reasons not to — tight finances, demanding babies, complicated relationships, hectic schedules, life. But being together reminded us of the million reasons we should have. It felt good to celebrate, and we made a vow to do it more often.

We celebrate romantic anniversaries. Births and birthdays. Work milestones. But friendships often get lost in the shuffle. Those are worth celebrating, too.

“If you prioritize only your romantic relationships, who is going to hold your hand through a breakup?” Aminatou Sow and Ann Friedman wrote in Big Friendship, their ode to their own lasting connection. “If you only prioritize your kids, what happens when they’re grown and living far away, wrapped up in their own lives? Or if you only prioritize work? Wow, that’s too sad to even contemplate.”

Neglecting our friendships means neglecting part of ourselves. Our friends are mirrors, helping us see ourselves more clearly and honestly. The way Paige sees me? It’s beautiful. After we spend time together, I stand a little taller, breathe a little deeper, laugh a bit more freely. I feel renewed. And I know she feels the same.

Of course, prioritizing friendship isn’t always easy. Life is busy, complicated, exhausting. There’s a reason spending time with friends so often falls to the bottom of the list. It’s not something to beat ourselves up about — life happens! — but it is something to push back against.

Just two weeks before I went to Savannah with Paige, I had to let two dear college friends know I couldn’t make it to Chicago for another birthday get-together.

Fortunately, my friends understood. Of course they did. Like Paige, they’ve seen endless versions of me. Right now, we’re determining a new date to reunite. And when we finally do? We’ll celebrate.

xoxo
KHG