Yesterday I had lunch with a dear, dear author friend I haven’t seen in a while. Life, family situations, circumstances, and schedules have kept us from seeing, talking, laughing with one another. After she commented on one of my Substack posts last week, I reached out and asked if she’d like to get lunch. We live 2+ hours from one another, so we decided to meet at the halfway mark.
After the multi-second hug outside the restaurant, where we both commented on how damn good we both looked- both of us the same age! – we went inside and were seated. Right away, my friend, who is one of the most pleasing, outgoing, friendly humans I know, engaged our server in conversation about, of all things, hair. Before we’d even ordered, we knew her name, where she was from, her family situation, and how old she was.
Yup. That’s my friend. She’s never met a stranger.
Lunch ordered, we began the how have you been’s what’s new, are you writing, what are you writing, convo.
And we never stopped talking.
For the entire length of our lunch, we laughed, shared opinions on the state of everything (!) and enjoyed our time together.
Even though we hadn’t laid eyes on one another for over two years, it was as if we’d only been apart a few days.
That, to me, is the true measure of a friendship.
We yapped, laughed, got a little choked up at one point about our shared circumstance of being motherless at this age, and generally just enjoyed one another’s company.
Our server, at the end of our time together, asked if we’d come in every week on a Thursday, because that’s the day she worked, and she loved talking with us so much she wanted to see us again.
We decided, if life goes well, we’d try to do this again at least once a month. I love that. What I love more? Our server was 24 years old. We are not ( LOL). But the age gap ( romance trope reference there, if you’re reading intently!) didn’t matter. We did tell her we were both writers and gave her our names. I gave her my business card with my social scans on it, which she excitedly took. When I said I write serial killer fiction in addition to romance, her eyes lit up. When my friend mentioned she writes a PNR series, the girl was overcome with glee.
You never know where you’re going to meet a new reader.
The moral of this story is not that, though.
The moral is that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. The ones whom you can pick up with after not seeing or speaking to in a long while are the ones who last that lifetime.
I’ve always believed the bonds women form, the ones they keep, nurture, and go back to over and over again, are the strongest bonds next to the ones women have for their children.
Women, simply put, need other women.
Writing is a solitary life. I am alone upwards of 13 hours daily because my husband still works full time and my daughter lives 5 states away. There are days that I never say a word to another human being if I don’t leave my house. Talking to the dog doesn’t count because she does’t even bark back at me! It’s essential for mental health and spiritual growth to be with other women.
Women who have similar mindsets, occupations, political thoughts.
And women who don’t share those facets with you.
Women the same age as you and women who could be your children or even grandchildren, as with our server. I so could have been her granny if I’d married a few years before I did and my child then had kids in her twenties.
Women, simply put, need other women.
If you haven’t seen or spoken to one of your female friends in a while, for whatever reason – time, distance, whatever – be the initiator today and reach out. It might just be the best decision you’ve made in a while.
Love one another, kids.
~ Peg
