On Friendship

The friendships that last aren't the loud ones. They're the ones that survive long silences — where you can go months without a word and pick up mid-sentence, as if no time had passed at all.

I used to think keeping in touch meant constant contact. Now I think it means something quieter: holding a place for someone, and trusting they're holding one for you. The thread doesn't break just because nobody's pulling on it.

A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.

Maybe that's all friendship really is. Not the shared history, not the favors traded back and forth, but the fact that someone else still remembers the tune.

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