Friendship at 9 is slumber parties and play dates and sharing glitter nail polish. We put on fancy dresses, scarves, pretended to be someone else when we weren’t even ourselves yet. Maybe boys came up, maybe they didn’t, but for the most part they were relegated to the same category as snakes and spiders (maybe they should have stayed there). I don’t remember what we talked about, what our late night whispered conversations were about. We didn’t have cell phones to distract ourselves, we didn’t text, snapchat, Instagram pictures of ourselves cheek to cheek. Our friendship was rooted in a common love for Little House on the Prairie and the color pink. That’s how I will always remember you.
Friendship at 19 is in snapshots, segments, pieces. Maybe we live together and I’ll tell you about my Econ exam as I sit on the kitchen counter getting in your way as you make dinner. We’ll see each other at our worst, first thing in the morning man I did not get enough sleep, or last thing at night, sneaking in at half past 2 with a guilty smile and mussed hair. Maybe our schedules never line up and god I feel so disconnected from you and your life is moving so fast where did the time go? I miss the times when you told me more than the boy who puts roses in your cheeks. Regardless, we’ll talk about our lives and what we want to do with all this goddamn youth we have, we’ll discuss to death the boys we may or may not love, whether or not our lives have purpose and whether or not we really are the worst generation. This is what friendship at 19 looks like, everything is happening all at once, and these moments are deep and sweet like a summer afternoon.
I don’t what friendship looks like at 29, after things like marriage and grad school. How to fit a relationship around a 9 to 5. I wonder if we’ll remember how it felt to be 9 years old with your best friend, whispering in the dark.