The week before Thanksgiving, in the space of five days, I had four different reunions with old friends.
On Monday, it was Tara, who I haven’t seen since I was about eight. We recently reconnected (thank you, Facebook), she was in town from LA, and, there we were, having coffee, after all this time.
On Tuesday, it was a gathering of women I worked with at COPIA, some of whom I haven’t seen since COPIA closed over five years ago.
Wednesday brought a visit with Sophie, a food writer friend I instantly fell in love with when we met almost ten years ago at the Symposium for Professional Food Writers.
And Friday I had breakfast with Lori, who I’ve known since grammar school.
It was a lot of filling in and getting filled in, all in the space of five days. All of which got me thinking—what is it about old friends? What do they provide?
Like, why do we bother?
There are a lot of reasons, of course. But I think that, at the bottom of it all, it has to do with feeling known.
You know, there are things about me that only these people know and can appreciate. So being with them—catching up, visiting, remembering—helps make me feel understood. I get to experience that someone gets me, even if only a little piece of me.
Those pieces add up to make me feel at home in the world. Not alone.
And that’s, maybe, everything, don’t you think?
When I was a kid, back before family and friends were flung near and far, when someone visited, no one went to Starbuck’s—they came over for cake and coffee.
I wish we could visit more often, but it makes all the difference that we do it at all.