There are many things in life that I value: eating sushi on the couch, watching TikTok instead of studying, laughing at my own jokes, and most of all, my female friendships.
Reflecting on my life, I realize that most of my days could be described as impermanent. Growing up, I was always moving from place to place; Italy to Georgia, to Italy again, oh, now New Hampshire! And Georgia again? Oh, now we’re back in New Hampshire. This impermanence, if you will, caused me to struggle with my relationships in ways I hadn’t been able to fully process until recently. But looking back, I’ve begun to realize something: I was never destined to spend my life arriving somewhere, loving people, and then losing them.
The beginning
We all remember preschool, right? Well, maybe not all of us, but as someone who just finished K-12, it doesn’t feel so long ago that I was giggling with my friends during nap time instead of sleeping… guilty! On a serious note, this is where I found the very first girls who taught me how to love, in some weird, childish version of the word.
We would talk and giggle and cry, and then suddenly I was on a Skype call with them instead of on the alphabet rug. At five, I didn’t yet have the words to understand why I missed those familiar faces so much; I only knew that the girls who were once right beside me were suddenly somewhere else. These girls were not only my first example of love, but also my first example of loss.
Flash forward to being in a foreign country (that is supposedly my actual home) and somehow being the strange “American” little girl. Now, nothing is more uncomfortable than going into first grade and realizing you don’t know how to speak the language of the classmates sitting beside you. Remember All Summer in a Day? The story that we were all collectively traumatized by in elementary school? That’s exactly how it felt. I was surrounded by people, yet somehow completely alone. Maybe that was when I began to understand just how much a familiar face could mean.
The great divide
My best friend, Caidyn Carter, is every good thing about my life. We first met when we were 8 years old, after yet another one of my moves. I had a gap-toothed smile and a huge red bow in my hair, and she most likely had her galaxy capris on and the highest ponytail known to man. Ever since that day, Caidyn has been the definition of “my other half.” There has never been one of us without the other, ignoring, of course, the first eight years of our lives.
But to get here, we had to go through one of my greatest moments of impermanence: transferring from our small high school during sophomore year to a large southern high school 13 states away.
Of course, my first thought was panic. This was it, I was going to lose the friendship. In that moment, I grounded myself with our hundreds of memories: coating her family’s kitchen in baby powder, making daily vlogs on our Chromebooks in class, our ultimate box fort, and many more.
Thankfully, we stayed close through the distance with random check-ins, daily 11:11 texts, and visits whenever I could manage. A friendship like ours is likely to outlive the next heir of the throne in Britain, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. She will always be my example of unconditional love.
over country
And then, there were my southern gals.
Years later, after all of the moving and all of the friendships I had convinced myself were temporary, I found myself in the same position I had been in at 5 years old: new place, new people, and a couple of girls who somehow made an unfamiliar place familiar.
My sweet, loving friends: Alexis, Lexis, and Morgan (from left to right) have each shown me unforgettable examples of friendship and love.
Alexis (the angel baby herself) has become the one to whom I owe my understanding of impermanence. Her tenacity for life is admirable, and I find myself wishing I could carry even half as much grace as she does through every obstacle she has faced. Like a ladybug, I think she landed in my life and brought with her every ounce of fortune I’ve encountered since. She’s taught me all I know about learning how to leave places and enter new ones.
Lexis (the Shakespeare to my Petrarch) showed me the depth of friendship and understanding. Through her quick-witted humor and beautifully crafted intellect, Lexis has always managed to remind me how valued I am in my most doubtful moments. Her heart is ineffable, and every ounce of her being seems to have been created in such a way that it could mesh seamlessly with my own, through our shared love of Harry Potter and literature, and through laughter.
Morgan (my Star Wars-loving, whimsical best friend) showed me what it truly means to change and adapt. Like a dragonfly, Morgan is constantly growing and evolving, each season of her life revealing new strengths and gifts. Yet her growth never comes at the expense of her gentleness. Through every shared interest and experience, Mo is everything thoughtful, gentle, and creative in my life.
They each are blessings I could never have imagined myself receiving until now.
The view between villages
I spent most of my life believing that the profound, beautiful friendships I created were temporary because my physical world was temporary. Now, that impermanence has turned into a joy of loving others. I have learned to open myself up, and allow others to truly see and understand me in ways I never would have before.
Female friendship is the most valued thing in my life. Just as valued, if not more, than eating sushi on the couch. These girls, these beautiful souls, are some of the most permanent gifts I’ve ever received.
So, this is to the girls who taught me how to love them today, rather than grieve them tomorrow.
For Caidyn, Alexis, Morgan, and Lexis; my favorite parts of life.