I never guessed I’d have a friend who is a few decades older than me.
Yes, you read that correctly, and even though I don’t see her often or talk to her regularly, I am friends with a very beautiful, strong woman who just so happens to have lived much longer than I.
She is my aunt’s friend from college, and I call her V. I happened to meet her while spending a few weeks in California, where my mother’s side of the family lives. I was very nervous at first to meet her, as I often am when I first meet someone. When I met her, however, I discovered a connection different than any connection I have found with anyone my age.
I was surprised that she didn’t mind talking and spending time with me, given that I am so young and she’d come with my aunt. But she understood my introversion and my preference to spend time with one person sometimes instead of many.
V has been through difficult times, but she was resilient, and she still is to this day. She is one of the warmest and kindest people I have met. She is unique and special. When many friends my age forget to text me, she will remember. She always makes sure to say hello every now and then, as do I. V can listen and give advice like no one else I know. My friend has seen the world and changing times unlike my peers; she offers a unique perspective.
Though V is much older, she is different than a mother, or even an aunt. She gives advice, but she does not try to control my life either. She talks to me as an equal, even though she has seen and experienced much more than I have. And I value that.
Although the majority of my friends are within my age range, I truly value having an older friend. Over a few years, V has become like a family member to me, and to my mother as well. I wouldn’t have it any other way.