Today, I got a phone call from a friend I hadn’t truly spoken to in almost five years. When I saw her name on my screen, my heart softened instantly. She has always been one of the most mothery, sweet, and gentle people I’ve met since living in France. And even though our contact had faded, she never really disappeared. Each year, sometime around mid-January, she still sent me a New Year message – thoughtful, warm, and never expecting anything in return. It was always me who couldn’t bring myself to answer. Life had swallowed me up, and I kept telling myself, “I’ll reply when I have energy,” but that moment never came. A little part of me felt ashamed every time.
Early this year, I finally found the courage to write back. I sent her a long email, apologizing for my silence and catching her up on the last few years, including the situation with my daughter. Her reply came so quickly. She didn’t question my absence or ask why I had disappeared. Instead, she simply asked for my home address and told me she wanted to send me a letter rather than write another email.
A few days later, a small package arrived. Inside was a handwritten letter and a book about self-care that she hoped would help my daughter. Her letter was so tender. Full of little stories about her kids, her husband, her work, her daily life. It carried the warmth of someone who had quietly stayed by my side all this time, even when I wasn’t able to do the same. I told myself I would write her back properly like a good friend should. And again… the letter never happened. I thought about calling her too, and again… I didn’t. Not until today.
Her call came when I wasn’t available. I called back when I got home.
She was busy. She tried again later…
… FINALLY ! We managed to speak. And when we talked, it was as if the last five years folded neatly away. One long hour went by just like that. We talked about our children growing up, their dreams and projects, our struggles as mothers, the guilt we carry, the small battles we fight every day. We talked about taking care of ourselves (or trying to) and all the things that make us laugh or cry. The conversation was a mix of emotions, warm laughter and tender tears, and it felt incredibly comforting. It felt like she had been right there all along.
When the call ended, I sat for a moment feeling blessed.
Some friendships are built slowly, carefully, with the right people; the ones who don’t disappear even when life gets heavy. There are friends who don’t need to call every day, yet the connection is still there the moment you pick up the phone. Friends who offer their shoulders without asking anything back. Friends who love you through the distance, whether they’re in France, Thailand, Singapore, the US, Canada… wherever life has carried us.
I am so grateful for these people. I hold these friendships close to my heart, like small, glowing treasures I can return to anytime. No matter how many miles lie between us, no matter how much time has passed, some friends remain part of your life in the softest, most enduring way.
Thank you for being there !
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