I was very lucky to meet not one but two of my best friends at 18. One I met by accident, as most of us did in college. It was in a giant lecture hall with over 200 seats on my very first day of classes. I found the first empty aisle seat next to a girl doodling on her notebook waiting for the professor to start talking. I said something like, “you don’t look too weird,” as I sat down hoping to break the invisible ice. Luckily, she laughed at my dad joke and introduced herself. The other I met through mutual friends. We clicked right away. Two years later, the three of us became roommates. The rest, as they say, is history. 

Neither of them have been able to get rid of me since. We have leaned on each other - virtually and literally - on the best and worst days of our lives. First apartments. First homes. First moves. Marriage. Divorce. Saying goodbye to our parents and hello to children. They each have one kid. I can remember the day each of those kids were born, the way they looked at me when I held them for the first time, and what they wanted for their birthdays last year. The first pictures I took with each of them are some of the few printed photos I own. 

The 12-year-old-and I are buddies. He is in middle school, but still took the time to make me a friendship bracelet last time I visited. Before I left for van life, he painted a rainbow for my wall that we still have on a bookshelf in the living room. I can’t tell you how surreal it is to text with him on his first phone now, knowing that his “lol” is that signature giggle I heard the first day I met her in that big classroom over 20 years ago.

I’ve been working on getting the 5-year-old to realize I’m going to be her friend, too.  Last time I visited, this 3-year-old was shy and protective. It took days for her to even look at me. But when I visited last week, she grabbed my hand to walk across the parking lot to dinner on the first night with a smile I’ve seen before. The same smile I saw on her mom’s face all those years ago when we sat around the dinner table at our apartment telling stories. Earlier this week I got a text from mom that said: “I asked Cora, 'you know who’s weird?' Usually, she says 'you,' but today she said 'Kat.'” I think I have a new BFF.  

I didn’t realize in college the way our friendship would evolve into something so strong that it could be passed down like genetic traits. I didn’t understand how friendships that began so casually could turn into a generational love - the kind I used to only see on TV. But in the big smiles of their kids, I feel it. I know this is just the beginning of a love that will always grow.