What do you call a friendship that has spanned 40 years, yet you have only met precisely three times in-person? The first meeting and its details remain unclear in my mind but lucid in my friend's mind. Then after a long hiatus, through a social media reconnect, two meetings over the last five years. That's it. Yet, there are the plain, authentic conversations whenever there are those, lots of laughter, some gossip, long bouts of silence where the friendship still feels free yet remains palpable to again share whatever we feel like when we next connect...no planning, no post- talk analysis, no power plays...just a deep rooted kindness to support and stand by each other, effortlessly. This is the context that I wanted to give as you read the poem below, composed by Ella Konger, my friend and soul sister, named "Forever Friends". I am thankful.
We never promised anything.
We simply stayed
a little longer after others left,
laughed a little louder than sorrows allowed,
and spoke of things
we had never dared to tell another soul.
We built a dialect of our own—
clever jokes, unfinished sentences,
a glance unfolding a thousand words,
and laughter that found us
even on the gloomiest days.
Even silence was never empty;
it was a place where we could breathe,
where broken thoughts
needed no disguise,
where we could be foolish, fragile,
yet understood and never judged.
No pretence, no assurances—
just the freedom to wander,
knowing that, somehow,
we would always find our way back
to the solace of each other..
That's how our friendship
became indispensable—
making our world a little gentler,
a little less lonely to live in.
We felt the hurt
beneath each other's laughter,
noticed the silence behind the smiles,
and spoke the truth without malice,
standing by each other
with dignity, tenderness, and love.
Through evenings filled
with endless jokes,
unhurried conversations,
and laughter that refused to end,
we gathered memories
no passing season could erase.
What made our friendship
strong and unforgettable
was neither the years
nor the promises we made,
but the tender trust
that let us be honest,
that let us simply be ourselves.
And the quiet acceptance
of every flaw, every scar—
the rarest kindness life can offer,
the freedom to be wholly human
in the presence of another soul.
Perhaps that is friendship's
most beautiful gift—
not someone who promises
never to leave,
but someone beside whom
we never have to pretend.
A silent presence.
A shelter for the soul.
A friend—not because we promised forever,
but because, in all the ways that matter,
we kept showing up.
Ella
October 11, 2026"
