There’s nothing like an old friend.
I’ve been reflecting recently on why my oldest friendships are some of my most cherished. Simply put; the longevity of these friendships charms me. My oldest girlfriends and I will often comment on the fact that we can’t believe we have been friends with each other for so long. We joke about it, often in the giddiness of seeing each other after months apart, but this joke reveals everything about why these long-lasting friendships are so special.
So much change has happened in the time we have known each other; from nearly the age of six until twenty-one, we have been in each other’s lives. The amount of transformation in those years is tremendous.
Our friendships were formed on a basis that has completely evaporated—we no longer go to the same school, or live in the same city, and we don’t share the things in common that we did when we were children; yet the foundation of love between us runs so deep… We truly don’t know any different than to love each other. Even so, in the oldness and the mundanity of the friendship, the fact that we have been lucky enough to grow together instead of apart, feels nearly miraculous.
This type of friendship, the type that nearly follows the trajectory of kinship, provides an ineffable amount of comfort. A FaceTime call with one of these friends feels like being wrapped in a blanket, cozy. Going home to visit each other, laying in our childhood beds together provides the most enchanting yet nostalgic cocktail of feelings.
How can so much change, and so much stay the same? I’ll pause and just look at all we’ve become—How beautiful.
Nobody can understand you like the people who have watched you exist forever. Their bank of contextual data is overwhelming; they know it all.
They know how I’m going to react to certain things; they’ve watched me react since I was a toddler, and advice from these friends is GOLD. They will keep you in check, give you guidance that is specific to you (not some generic bs), remind you all the times you’ve gotten through it in the past, and fill your heart and soul with love.
Sometimes, the permanence of my past freaks me out. I feel like I can’t escape anything I’ve ever done—like I’ll always be carrying around old mistakes or personalities I’ve tried on.
I feel a lack of control over my identity because of my inability to be only who I want at that moment, and my attachment to my past. Reflecting on my relationships with my oldest friends always calms me down. These relationships serve as proof that I can be loved through all my waves and changes and ups and downs. They show me that I have an overarching character that shines through, even as time passes and moments change; they make me feel safe in myself, and confident that I’m growing in the right direction.
Writing this, I’m feeling lucky. My oldest friends have known 500 versions of me and have loved them all. There is no truer feeling of acceptance than that.
