We lay in hospital beds almost 3,000 miles apart.
On the phone screen I could see both our faces, red with emotion and streaked with tears in the florescent hospital lighting. We laughed and cried and said very little – both of us unable to speak words to this moment.
In the 2 weeks since we had last talked I hadn’t been sure we would ever talk again.
We were born 3 days apart, our mother’s having connected in pregnancy. We taught each other all those first hard lessons about sharing, saying sorry, and not hitting- between giggles so strong they knocked us off our chairs.
Our bond grew into a deep friendship. The years passed, and both our families moved far away. Years would pass when we didn’t get to see one another. We wrote letters with all the details of our biggest crushes, and racked up long distance phone bills that took months of allowance to pay off.
As we moved to adulthood, we tried on different versions of ourselves, and called each other out when those versions didn’t ring true. It was painful and uncomfortable at times, as relationships are when we push each other to grow. Our friendship, however, was always a constant and when other relationships faltered we leaned on each other and the felt the safety of long-term committed, loyal, love.
After 37 years of friendship, when I was 37 weeks pregnant with my second child, I got a terrible phone call. I was told that my friend was headed into a 5-hour emergency brain surgery to try to save her life. She had suffered a rare brain aneurysm and had been rushed to the hospital. I didn’t sleep for 24 hours, waiting to hear if she would wake up again.
When she did, I held my breath, unsure of what the recovery would entail. It was still unclear two weeks later when I went into labor.
Hours after our little guy was born I saw my phone light up with a call from her, and we spoke again for the first time. I introduced her to our baby as he lay on my chest, and sobbed as she spoke my name and laughed her same joyful laugh. Even through the small phone screen I could see the spark of who she was still in her eyes and my breath finally released.
Connection is what holds us steady and keeps us grounded in who we are when the challenges of life put everything into question. When crisis happens we are reminded how important these relationships are, but how can we make time for each other without a traumatic reminder?
I put together my version of an answer to this question. It’s called Rings of Growth. It’s an activity to do with someone you love that explores connection through 25 questions and a creative invitation designed to bring you closer. You can download the activity from my website here. Here’s to love (in all its forms)!