I spoke with one of my closest friends this week. We met in high school, and our friendship has lasted decades—even after life took us in different directions.
We hadn’t talked in months. Not because we aren’t close, but because life has a way of filling every corner of the calendar before we realize how much time has passed.
By the time we hung up, I felt lighter. Calmer. More like myself. It’s funny how one conversation with an old friend can remind you how much life has changed—and how much of yourself is still the same.
Life has a way of introducing different kinds of friendship. Some people walk beside us for only a season. They’re exactly who we need at that point in our lives, and then our paths slowly separate. Sometimes we drift apart. Sometimes we outgrow one another. Sometimes life simply carries us in different directions.
I don’t think those friendships failed. They still mattered, even if they weren’t meant to last forever.
Then there are the friends who are here for the person I am right now. The ones I see at extracurriculars, school events, neighborhood walks, dinners, and drinks. They are the people I talk to about what is happening today—the school struggles, the parenting worries, the neighborhood news, and the ordinary frustrations of the week.
They know the person I am now—the mom, the wife, and the middle-aged woman navigating this particular season of life. They may not know my college stories or remember me in high school. Some never knew me when I worked outside the home. But these friends, listen, encourage me, make me laugh, and often help me through the week.
The friend I spoke with on the phone holds a different part of my life. We don’t talk all the time—certainly not as much as we would like—but we share a lot of history. I am fortunate to have a few friends like this. They’re the friendships I think of as heart friendships.
These are the friends I can call during a difficult stretch, knowing that simply hearing their voices will make me feel better. They know the struggles and the joys. I can tell them the messy, imperfect parts of my story without worrying that they will think less of me.
Another heart friendship began with a random college roommate assignment. Two strangers sharing a tiny dorm room eventually became lifelong friends.
Since that freshman year, we’ve watched each other’s lives unfold. We’ve talked through job changes, moves, marriage, infertility, and motherhood. Motherhood came to her through marriage and to me through adoption.
Sometimes months pass without us talking. And yet every conversation feels like picking up a book we simply set down for a while.
My heart friends remember versions of me I’ve almost forgotten. They’ve watched different relationships come and go while quietly remaining through every chapter of my own story.
When I hung up after our conversation, I was reminded that some friendships don’t require constant maintenance. They don’t disappear just because life gets busy. Somehow, they wait patiently until it’s time to pick up where you left off.
Maybe that’s one of the greatest gifts of growing older—not having hundreds of friends, but a few who always feel like home.
As my daughter gets older, I hope she experiences all kinds of friendship. I hope she finds classmates who are kind. Neighbors who make summer afternoons memorable. Teammates who cheer her on.
But more than anything, I hope she finds a few heart friends. The kind she can call after months of silence. The kind who never make her feel guilty for disappearing into a busy season of life. The kind who remind her who she is simply by answering the phone.
Life is full of ordinary moments that often become meaningful only when we stop long enough to notice them.
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