“We have three types of friends in life: friends for a reason, friends for a season, and friends for a lifetime.” This phrase has been attributed to various authors, but I will forever attribute it to my mom, spoken in her kind yet matter-of-fact voice when my tender heart was wounded. The first time I remember her sharing this concept with me, we were sitting on the edge of my childhood bed amid a lot of tears and sniffles, as I realized my world was rapidly changing in ways I never anticipated.
My group of best friends, a circle strengthened since pre-school, was officially splitting up. Not because of any unresolved skirmishes but because of geography. As the end of sixth grade approached, some of us (including me) would start our next chapter at Bragg Middle School, which would then feed us into Gardendale High. The other half were going to North Jefferson Middle School and then on to Mortimer Jordan High School.
Up until that point, it felt like we had been aboard a train of single-file cars gliding toward our futures and then – schwoom! – the track unexpectedly split in two. Some cars turned south to the maroon and gray campus of the GHS Rockets, and others bent north to the blue and silver stomping grounds of the MJHS Blue Devils. Suddenly, the very same people who had helped shape my identity, build my community, and determine how I would move through the world would soon become bitter rivals we would cheer against from opposing sides of the field.
Back in my bedroom, I felt the ground unravel beneath my feet as I came to terms with this new reality. In my heart of hearts, I had trusted we would be friends forever. After all, we had plastered “BFF” on our notebook covers and bedroom bulletin boards. And what about the sets of silver friendship necklaces that, only when placed together, formed a complete heart? What about all the sleepovers and swim days and secret crushes? Finding out that we had been seasonal friends all along made me feel duped, an eleven-year-old sized deception.
I’d like to say to any younger readers out there that this was the worst of it, but the truth is, the stakes only kept getting higher. Take my best friend in high school. She heard every detail of my first period and showed me how to practice my first kiss with a fist. I was by her side through a flood of regret after she lost her virginity and had big questions as a girl raised in the South where promise rings encircled the wedding finger of most of our peers. We went from sharing everything from changing bodies, matching hairstyles, and first hangovers to being strangers in the same college sorority. Then came my longest former friendship with twenty years of military ties, godparent titles, and international travel, culminating in an epically dramatic fallout that still leaves me scratching my head.
Now a year and half after my cross-country move from Florida to New Mexico, I’ve found myself trying to predict which friends will be in my life a year from now, a decade from now, and when (and if I’m lucky enough to become) old and gray. And I’ve been wondering: Is it possible to avoid being blindsided when you find out a friendship you thought was air-tight and non-perishable actually has an expiration date?
In attempting to answer that question, I’ve discovered a few things (some the hard way) worth sharing:
- Real friendships come with a push-away-pull-together ebb and flow of constant motion due to the simple fact that no two humans can grow in the same direction all day, every day. But the relationships that last will return from those stretched times with new stories that fuel the next layer of excavation and connection.
- Much like romantic relationships, lasting friendships require authentic, sustained effort. That means showing up when we don’t always feel like it. That means staying genuinely curious about each other’s most primitive fears, bravest dreams, and most obscure oddities. That means telling the truth even when it’s hard. That means putting in the time and care required for the friendship to shed its armor and exhale.
- Friends for a reason (and a season) are just as necessary to our human experience as friends for a lifetime. We need kindred spirits of all shapes and sizes to get through life’s tough stuff, to share in the mundane, to make the team work, to achieve the big milestones.
- Friendships need permission to evolve. They can be hungry for the minutiae that incessantly streams across the tickers of daily life. They can be crisis caregivers who drop everything and come to each other’s aid when life gets especially hard. They can be adventure partners who share a world view of compassion and curiosity. They can be old friends who connect with random check-ins or door knocks that reaffirm they will continue to show up for each other. They can debate, disagree, and even distance for a while. They can be all of the above or something else entirely.
Maybe the answer to the question above is to learn how to swallow this jagged little pill: If we are fortunate enough to live long enough, friendships will come and go, and even some of our most special ones will fade regardless of our investment. But that doesn’t make them any less worth the risk. Because those rarest of jewels, the friendships we have the good fortune to share in for a lifetime, they are forged and refined by fire, by walking hand in hand, free of judgment, and doing whatever it takes.
At its outset, it’s impossible to determine whether a friendship will be for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. But with that unknown comes beautiful possibilities. Maybe it will be a brief kinship. Maybe it’s the start of a season of meaningful connection. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the beginning of something lifelong. I am grateful for them all just the same.
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swimming toward the shark 