The older I get, the harder it feels to find genuine friends in this bustling world. People who want to sit down over cups of coffee and skip all the small talk to say, “I’m excited about this. I’m anxious about that. And how are you, though? How are you really?”
Life can be terribly lonely like that. Even in the middle of handshakes and cocktails, text messages and missed calls, it can feel like you’re standing outside it all and watching. It can feel like night after night of conversations about things that wash away like the weather.
It feels a bit like a dream sometimes. Like waking up after months and months of memories and catching your breath. You find yourself standing on the outside of all these beautiful lives—these amazing fresh starts and growth moments, these tight embraces and happy tears—and wonder what passcode to use when you knock on the door and ask to come in.
When I met my husband, one of favorite things about him was his joy for life. We dove right in to being our honest, silly selves. We fell in love because we never tried to be small talkers. We acted stupid together, went on adventures, shared our hearts, and continued to reciprocate that day in and day out.
Tonight, I drove nineteen miles on a mostly empty road and thought about how nice it is to sit inside a good conversation for a while. How it feels to exchange real stories and struggles and feel the weight shake itself off your shoulders with each step forward. How it feels to find common ground in a world filled with perfect Snapchat stories and Instagram filters.
We all need somebody like that, who asks, “How are you, though? How are you really?”