During my junior year of high school, when I was 16, my dad sent me to a retreat for troubled teens. On the last day, they gave me a brown paper bag with 15 or so sealed envelopes inside and told me to find a quiet place to sit and open them.

I walked to an old, sprawling oak tree and sat with my back against it. I emptied the bag into a pocket made by its gnarled, knobby roots. The envelopes were different shapes and sizes. As sun beams danced on my hands, and Spanish moss slinked over branches like ash-colored snakes hanging from their tails, I opened one. A note from my grandpa. Then another from my basketball coach, my uncle, a couple from high school teammates. They were all love notes.

My throat felt tight with emotion. I continued opening and reading. As I pulled one letter from its envelope, a photo of me and friends in 5th grade, and a hand-drawn car on an index card fell between my crossed legs. I knew who this letter was from, and my eyes teared up.

The drawing of a car tossed my mind back to 3rd grade. That’s when I received one of my greatest gifts: a best friend. I got along with other kids, but still felt like an outsider. My new school wasn’t any different, except for one kid, Kim. I don’t remember how we connected. Maybe it was because we were both good-hearted tom boys with a wild streak, or maybe it was because we both felt we didn’t fit in. What we knew was we fit like two peas in a pod.

From 3rd through 5th grade, we were inseparable. We passed notes, and we drew cars on index cards when the teacher wasn’t looking. After school, we volunteered together as office aids and safety patrols, we road bikes, fished, chatted with truckers on the CB radio, made and sold candy and buttons, crawled through drainage culverts, and set things on fire (safely of course).

Behind the scenes, a lot was going on in our lives. Kim’s mom passed the year before we met. My parents divorced, and my dad had a rocky re-marriage. We learned a lot together, but more than anything, we learned what having a great friend was like. In our little kid ways, we deeply cared for and took care of each other through our family upheavals. Then middle school came, we went to different schools, and we lost touch.

Reading Kim’s funny and loving letter, at 16, brought back all those memories of friendship. We hadn’t spoken in years. Kim shared her phone number with the wish that we get back in touch. I don’t remember acknowledging any of the letters from that brown bag, and I never reached out to Kim.

In my 30s and early 40s, I tried looking for Kim via google, but she has a common name and I never found the needle in the haystack. Fast forward to last month, mid-October. Kim sent me a Facebook friend request. My heart ‘bout beat out of my chest. I noticed that her hometown was listed as Thomas, West Virginia. It was only two-and-a-half-hours away! I sent her a message:

Almost two weeks went by and she hadn’t read the message. Then a friend I was visiting, Marlene, asked if I’d be up for a long weekend camping trip. She’d heard of a quaint small town with nearby National Forests for camping and hiking, a perfect spot for a short get-away: Thomas, West Virginia.

What are the chances?

I googled Kim’s name and town, and a few phone numbers popped up. One had a Florida area code, where we grew up. I felt like too much of a stalker to make the call. We drove to West Virginia and set up camp in the forest, 20 minutes from Thomas.

I am the experience of life living itself. I am a leaf on a tree. A tree doesn’t conspire with itself any more than I conspire with my fingernails. I am along for the ride and I am the ride. There is no rider, there is only living.

This felt like a pivotal moment in the ride.

“I bet she’ll be excited to hear from you,” Marlene said. “Just make the call.” I sat in my trailer, phone in hand. My pulse thumped and I had an empty, fluttery feeling in my stomach. The nervousness I felt surprised me. I felt ashamed for ghosting my special friend decades ago. My heart still hurt about that.

“Either it’s Kim or it’s not,” Marlene said. “You won’t know till you try.”

I took a deep breath, called, and left a message.

Kim called the next day. Her voice was the same… We met up and shared most of the next day together. She was the same. It had been over 30 years and it felt like nothing had changed. We went for a short walk, which turned into hours of wandering. Our lives have so many parallels. We both took the road less traveled, we both have a passion for and work in mental health, we both once had a risky job that most women don’t do (she climbed 90+ meter wind turbines solo, I was a firefighter), we were both entrepreneurs, we have similar hobbies, and on and on. The most touching thing was we were the same little 11-year-olds that loved and cared for each other in the 5th grade.

We talked about how our personalities, likes and dislikes, tendencies and mannerism were mostly unchanged since we were kids. The more we talked, the more we realized how much our friendship meant to us back then, and how significant that relationship was in forming who we had become.

We were each other’s keeper and favorite person at a time when both of us needed a friend.

You don’t know who they will be, the ones who open your eyes to life’s wild magic, but when you find them, it will not be hard to tell. – Gabriel Andreas

My eyes continued to be opened to life’s wild magic. As life unfolds, I unfold, we unfold. Kim and I didn’t orchestrate a thing. We’ve been on a wild ride our whole lives, and even though most of that time we were physically apart, we’ve been on the ride together the entire time.

This was another reminder that life is always in the midst of the perfect unfolding, even when things don’t seem perfect in the moment. Every experience is a gift, and this beautiful gift of reuniting with one of the most special humans I know is a reminder that I can let go even more. Surprises that I can’t imagine or choreograph are in the works, and all I’ve got to do is live.

November 30th, 2024 is my seven year anniversary of driving away from “normal” life and setting off to wander the world. This article continues the tradition of releasing a blog that highlights someone/something that made a tremendous difference in my life each November 30th. Curious about how it all began? Here is the origin story: Waking up From Reasonable

The Coddiwomple Group Program begins January 16th: Do you feel stuck? Want to let go of your fears and trust? Let’s tap into your passions, desires and creativity. Your experience of life will shift as we dabble in the unknown with curiosity and wonder. More info here: Coddiwomple Group Program
**Note: this group is for everyone! You can (and will) experience the freedom of Coddiwompling from your couch (or office or anywhere else)… no need to travel ‘round 🙂

Would you like to have more fun, live at ease, and let stress melt away? Through one on one mentoring and coaching, you’ll realize more happiness, freedom, contentment, confidence, creativity… problems fade and decisions become a breeze. Curious? Check out more here and let’s have a call to discuss what is possible.

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