Several months before my mother died, I met a woman who lives in the house that once belonged to one of my childhood friends.
I know.
Stay with me.
She is an artist. Filmmaker. Carer of the Culture. Mother. Wife. PhD.
And that is not even all of it.
Her work was being exhibited at a neighborhood gallery in a salon style setting, basically inside the gallery owner’s fabulous home.
We started talking.
At some point we asked each other where we lived.
Same corner.
What?
We could not believe it.
Then we discovered another connection.
Her husband’s best friend is my friend too.
Of course he is.
Since then, she has welcomed me into her home. She has screened films for me, shown me her atelier, made me laugh, dance and babble.
One day I said out loud:
Where were you ten years ago when you moved in? I could have really used you then.
She chuckled.
And almost immediately I caught myself.
I have her now.
That is what matters.
And honestly, she probably would not have wanted me ten years ago anyway. 😂
Timing matters.
Now I have my girl from freshman orientation at Howard living down the street too.
Well, when she is actually there.
Sometimes she is off on a fellowship somewhere fabulous like Harvard.
As one does.
And speaking of Howard.
Our group chat has been alight for weeks in the lead up to Homecoming.
I have been watching, trying not to be salty because me actually making it to Homecoming is rare.
So imagine my delight when circumstances brought me home during Homecoming Week.
The last time I was here during Homecoming, I was here to put Daddy at Arlington Cemetery.
A classmate saw that I was in Washington and excitedly messaged me:
“I see you’re here for Homecoming!”
When I explained my itinerary, her excitement immediately turned to sympathy.
She understood.
She lost her mother the day before we graduated from Howard all those years ago.
Now she is having a procedure later this week, so even though we are finally in the same city during Homecoming, we may not get to see each other.
And somehow that feels different to me now too.
Maybe because this comes right on the heels of one of my besties explaining that we are no longer hiding and ducking from people on The Yard during Homecoming. 😂
I know exactly what she means.
There was a time when you might spot somebody coming and suddenly remember somewhere else you needed to be.
Not anymore.
We are older.
We have buried parents.
We have lost classmates.
We have survived things we never imagined we would have to survive when we were walking across The Yard all those years ago.
Now when we see each other, there is something else underneath the laughter, the outfits, the parties and all that Howard Homecoming energy.
We are still here.
And we are genuinely happy and grateful to be together.
Maybe that is another thing I am learning about friendship at this age.
Sometimes you travel to meet your people.
Sometimes life unexpectedly brings you back to them.
And sometimes the gift is simply recognizing that you both made it here.
Then there is the friend I met in Swedish class.
Haitian American.
And the absolute QUEEN of bringing people together.
So many of the international friends I have in my town came from Swedish school or from gatherings at her house.
Lots of food.
Lots of people.
Lots of talking.
She eventually moved away, but the friendships remained.
At some point our group moved from Facebook to WhatsApp.
I missed the migration.
Then I saw a picture from a gathering.
My heart sank.
Everybody together.
Without me.
Now, granted, I had left town for years with my military man.
People had lives.
Things changed.
I had to remind everybody:
Hey. I’m back.
So I hosted.
Then life got busy again.
Mommy needed me.
Caregiving became the center of things.
Friendship did not disappear, but in person friendship became harder.
Eventually I joined one of our dinners and met a newly arrived American woman with a baby.
She was FUN.
I liked her immediately.
We kept saying we should have lunch.
You know how that goes.
Calendars.
Babies.
Travel.
Work.
Life.
But eventually we did it.
We sat down for lunch and basically decided:
Okay. We are connected now.
I even recruited her to make a Get Out The Vote video with me.
Because apparently that is one of my love languages. 😂
And then there is another American woman I met through our international women’s network.
During the FAWCO meeting in Stockholm, we traded backyard pears for her backyard blackberries.
The blackberries started frozen.
Let us just say they did not stay politely inside their container during the journey.
Blackberry juice traveled all through my carry bag.
A pleasure to clean up. 😂
This woman talks more than I do.
Laughs more than I do.
Has more energy than I do.
I did not know this was possible.
I feel so lucky that we ended up in the same club.
Then we realized we might not actually live very far from each other.
So when I took the train south toward Copenhagen, I started looking for her stop.
I timed it.
I filmed it.
Because of course I did.
And now she is coming to my town for Friendsgiving at a restaurant.
It will also be the second meeting of what I have jokingly started calling the Former Presidents Club.
Another friend is coming down from Gothenburg.
I met her at the first and only club meeting I attended about an hour away from home.
I met six women that night.
I have held on to all of them in different ways.
Some closely.
Some loosely.
Some mostly online.
But the thread is still there.
I keep thinking about that.
When you find your people, you travel to meet them.
You coordinate.
You follow up.
You make the lunch reservation.
You get on the train.
You bring the pears.
You clean blackberry juice out of your bag.
And when I came home during my caregiving years, my people came to me.
Without fail.
Okay, maybe some of them came to see my mother.
She was pretty fabulous.
But they were there for me too.
Now I am rebuilding the friendships that require being physically present.
Because some friendships can survive beautifully through messages, video calls and social media.
Others need a table.
A walk.
A train ride.
A meal.
A hug.
During the pandemic, I built strong relationships with women in my club online.
That was intentional.
I helped lead that.
Because I already knew something about the power of women’s friendships.
Connection does not always happen by accident.
Sometimes somebody has to make the room.
Send the invitation.
Remember the birthday.
Make the introduction.
Follow up after the meeting.
Say, I’m back.
Or simply say:
Are we still doing lunch?
And I am usually willing to do that work.
I will travel.
I will coordinate.
I will follow up.
So when I stop doing those things, there is probably something going on with me.
That matters too.
Sometimes friendship means noticing when you have disappeared a little.
Not judging yourself for it.
Just noticing.
Caregiving changed my rhythms.
Grief changed them again.
Work changes them.
Travel changes them.
Life changes them.
But I am learning that stepping away does not always mean losing your place.
If the will is still there.
If the foundation is still there.
If the hope is still there.
You can step back in.
You can text.
You can host.
You can get on the train.
You can meet somebody new who has apparently been living around the corner for ten years and laugh because you wish you had met her sooner.
Then you can remember:
I have her now.
And sometimes now is exactly when you need each other.
