This is how I learned that real friendships have no borders
Over the course of your life, you will have an average of 150 connections at once. 29 of them will be meaningful to a certain level, and only six will be considered close friends. This is not really what happens when your closest ones live in different places.
“Do you want these?” — My boss asks me in a sweet and caring tone. She seems rushed while carrying four (maybe five) postcards as if they were a deck in a poker game. They have green trees on them, wooden little houses and colourful birds. A little childish, if you ask me.
“Yeah, sure”- I say. With no idea what I’ll do with it. They had postage included, so it felt right to take it. Standard-size pieces of paper with enough space to write a small poem or a simple reminder that I exist to anyone in the world, anywhere, for free.
Sending letters feels like an art of the past, but I stare at those postcards for a few minutes until I decide to give them a chance. Now a bigger challenge consumes my mind: Who to send it to?
I was 15 when I left Brazil to live in the U.S. for a year as a foreign-exchange student. After extensive growth in English grammar, emotional text messages from my mom, and many remarkable experiences, I said goodbye to people that, for a moment in my life, made me feel like they should be in it forever.
I guess when you are young, this feeling just comes often. You are old enough to realize that people come and go, but too young to deal with the hardness of it. The ones that moved at least once in their life probably learned this the hard way, but I really don’t think it should be a tough experience.
Some relationships, like the many that I developed, simply work because of a geographic distance compared to the greatness of them.
“Hi Jace. How’s life treating you?” I send a text message to a person that I haven’t talked to in nearly six months, but at one point in my life, I saw him every day. He was never much of a talker. We’d go out to get drinks, Mexican food, have lunch together and do the basic stupid teenager things.
The distance between us is almost 2 thousand miles at this point, but his friendship still matters a lot to me. It has its own limitations, but distance is not one of them.
I wonder if he’ll reply, feel weird about the randomness of the message, or even be happy about it. I know I would, and sitting there, looking at my phone but not too worried about the outcomes of the decision, I convince myself that it is a way to show that I care. I may not talk to him every day or see you all the time, but this small and simple text is my way to express what is on my mind.
“I’m great! How are you doing?” He replies. We go on what I like to call a life talk. It is as basic as it sounds, and it can be about anything with anyone, starting with the typical “What are you up to?”
A new relationship, a job opportunity, struggling with mental health and the wish to keep in touch are the highlight of a conversation that if happened in person, would have taken five minutes to finish.
From friends that are a 30-min subway ride from me, I would demand a little more. But for Jace, this seems like enough. I know things won’t go back to what they were, but a simple form of communication like that shows that he is still on my mind, and I’m curious to know how he is doing.
I saw him last summer and it was simply great. We acted just like the foolish kids that we once were, but with deeper conversations. I think to myself: “Well, it’s good I didn’t let this go.” Many past friendships are not in my life anymore. If I was still seeing Jace every day, maybe he wouldn’t mean the same to me as he does today.
I set myself up to have the same talk with some of his family members, just as dear to me as he is. The conversations will look the same, maybe I’ll call them, but it doesn’t matter. The intention is what’s important here.
A few years later, I leave my home country again. This time, with no way back ticket. Opening more doors to my life, a potential career and a new wave of goodbyes that will forever live in my mind.
In the comfort of my room on a dead winter night, I decide to bring a little bit of warmth to my overall vibe of a regular study-work-sleep routine and text a small group of friends from high school.
“God, I miss them!” — I think to myself. I know they miss me too, and we don’t talk or see each other very often, but when we do, I can simply not stop laughing or thinking how important they are to me.
There, alone with my phone having the wildest conversations when one of us is in the middle of a university conference, the other is on her way home, taking the bus after a busy day and another one is on a break at her new internship, my mind often visits the memories that we have, and I get excited to make some more.
When I see them again, the specialty of the occasion is what will make it remarkable. I won’t be for long, but when I do, we’ll make it a moment hard to forget. I convince myself that having bits and pieces of them in my life like this is better than killing a history of laughs, ups, and downs.
Important people in life come and go, and then suddenly they become strangers. Going different ways not always means something bad or that these people can’t be friends anymore, especially in a world where it gets easier to connect to anyone.
Please don’t think I still talk to everyone from high school just because I have a phone. I don’t, and in fact, I try to keep myself very aware of who aggregates positively in my life. I just don’t think I should let go of these people so easily, not because of distance.
The truth is, the easiness of connecting with someone from afar goes beyond the influence that technology has had in our lives, especially in my generation. It’s about the way we were taught to communicate and find meaning in those connections. The smallest digital action that might require a few touches on a screen like replying to someone’s story, sending them a funny meme, or reminding them of a good moment symbolizes a bond hard to break.
A good friend lives in Spain. Another, in Thailand. Most of them, still back home. All of them taught me that a good friendship does not need much to stay alive, and how to be thankful for the little device in my pocket.
Today’s convenience of messaging anyone, from anywhere, at any time taught me that I can still maintain relationships that were once meaningful to me. It didn’t take me long enough to realize how these people made me the friend I am today.
I finally make up my mind about those postcards. I sent it to childhood friends, middle-school “besties” and a family member that I wish was with me at the moment. I plan on getting some more and waiting for subtle text messages saying:
“I miss you. How are you doing?”
