Friends

The older I get the more friends I have. Somehow I thought it was usually the other way around. The older you get, the more you pare the friends down and solidify three or four friendships.

I have individual friends and circles of friends. The individual connections are loosely established. I may get together with one or two of them at a time, for dinner or drinks. We talk, laugh and reconnect. Some of those are writers; some aren’t. I even have some Internet friends, most of whom I’ve met via my e-newsletter. Some of them I’ve never even seen in person.

Then I have what I call circles of friends. One group meets every month. That’s twelve months a year for twenty years now. I’m the only writer in the group.

The other circle meets three or four times a year. We’re all women. All writers of one kind or another. Humor, travel, mystery, journalism, essay, nonfiction, fiction. But we’re not a critique group. Just friends who enjoy getting together on a regular, irregular basis. Occasionally we talk about writing, but not very often. And yet … writing is important to each of us individually and therefore plays a big role in the circle. On birthdays we write notes or poems to each other, for example.

But the real joy of this irregular circle of friends is the connection we make with each other. Each time we meet, we learn more about each other. We learn to trust, respect, and treasure each other.

The important thing is not whether you have thirty friends or three, though. The important thing is how good of a friend you are.