Growing up, I sometimes wished I had a sister. A little ally under the same roof. Someone to play Barbie with, share clothes and make-up, talk horses. Instead I had an older brother who very much did his own thing, convinced I was the nosiest little pest in his orbit. He’s an alright guy whom I love quite a bit, but I don’t think we could be any more different if we tried. Our relationship is a “no news is good news”-type deal. General updates on social media between Christmas and birthday messages is our source of information, yet, there’s also this innate, unspoken understanding of always being there for each other, unconditionally. It’s the strongest, most low-key sibling bond I think I’ve ever encountered.

I was never a lonely child. On the contrary, I was a tiny, social butterfly. I happily arranged playdates after school, walked or rode my bike further than I’d ever admit, and stayed out until the street lights would come on, fueled by corner-store snacks, horse carrots, fresh air, and sunshine. I had my school friends, my horse friends, and almost all girl cousins who lived in the same town. I still remember all of their home phone numbers. They were my childhood sisters. Girls who knew me as well as I knew myself. There is a precious lightheartedness in all of it, with its soundtrack playing to endless laughter, innocent joy, and core memories in the making. The benchmark for life’s friendships for sure.

But as life grew more complicated and complex, friendships became fewer and more guarded, falling victim to a never-ending string of obligations, distance, or differing opinions. Or sometimes even no reason at all. While this is all a very organic process, I think it’s important to hold an eternally appreciative space for young sisterhood friendships you were convinced would never end. What a privilege it is to have been a part of someone’s story, even for a short while, whatever the lesson might be. A part that stays even long after it’s gone. This very notion makes the few childhood friendships who have survived into mid-adulthood even more precious. They have stood the test of time, of so much change, of SO. MUCH. LIFE. They’re the kind of bonds that can go without months of not talking, even years of not seeing each other, but when you do, nothing that’s between you has changed. What a comfort, what a blessing!

Over the years, I’ve been lucky enough to have found a few more sisters in the sea of adulthood encounters. Each happened so perfectly randomly. They are my rare gems who see me for who I am, understand my silence, have my back in rooms I’m not in, and make me belly-laugh out of the blue. They are perfect soul reflections who remind me of the little girl who used to giggle into the wind, whose carefreeness I’m still trying so hard to protect. They are hands to hold when life gets heavy and never more than a phone call away. They are all long-distance sisters, in different corners of the world, who put up with my nomad bullshit, offering a peace of mind I could never repay. In a way, it’s a brave (sometimes frustrating) thing to continuously open myself up to the world around me. Moving, starting fresh, and “dating” potential, local female friends is exhausting. The tiny, social butterfly has grown a bit quieter over the years, but the universe always seems to be looking out. So I keep on keeping on, one kindness at a time, trusting in the promise of more blessings while resting in the comforting love of the sisters I chose.