Every Thursday night, I have a “date” with my friend Erin. At 6:58, I start up my computer, and wander around trying to find a wireless signal (I’m cheap, I borrow wifi from my neighbors–don’t judge me). I set my laptop in my lap (clever, I know), log-in to Facebook, and wait for Erin to arrive.
I don’t think I’ve actually seen Erin in person in nearly eight years. We worked at a camp together when we were in college. In my mind, Erin was this incredible, beautiful, vivacious person–and I was shy and awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin.
In the years following college, in the flurry of marrying and having a family (her) and moving and moving (me) we lost touch. But around a year ago, thanks to the miracle of social media, we reconnected. And every week, I look forward to our chats.
After eight years, we’ve had a lot of catching up to do. But we have moved past the “where do you live and what are you dong” to “tell me about your life.” Some weeks we have difficult discussions, about hard relationships and grief and fear. Other weeks we ask each other mundane questions that inevitably end with the phrase “Oh my gosh, me too!”
In Erin, I have found a true friend. Someone I trust and admire. I hope that she has found a similar friend in me.
We have both shared so deeply that sometimes we pause and say “I can’t believe I told you that.”
And in our honesty, we have moved past beautiful and vivacious (her) and shy and awkward (me), to falling down and getting back up (us).
So every Thursday night, after our chat is done, I close my laptop, stand up and stretch, and feel a little less alone.