Jill's Journal: 60-year-old wise decision still stands

Friends for life. We’ve all heard the statement, but honestly, having a friend for life, in my opinion, is somewhat of a rarity, and oh-so-special.

I’m so fortunate to have one of those friends. 

This year marks our 60th year of friendship. I know, hard to believe when I’m only my 40s. 

But truth be told, this year, both my friend Trish and I will mark our 63rd year on this planet. I’ve written before about how we met six decades ago on the borders of our backyards. My dad’s work with a natural gas company had our family packing up and leaving Le Suer, Minn., for St. James, Minn. And on moving day, our folks told us to “go outside and play.” And so, we did.

It wasn’t long after our arrival that my brother, Bob and I stood toe-to-toe with Trish and her brother, Brian, who just happened to be the same age as Bob. Like dogs sniffing out each other’s territory, we were both quick to stand our ground: “Don’t come on our lawn” was the sentiment we threw each other’s way.

But as kids will do, moments later, we were friends. Running around the backyard – us on their yard and them on our yard. 

Last week, I was elated to have my friend, Trish, come to Brandon for a few days. We had the best time doing a lot of “nothing”. We talked and laughed. We floated around my pool. We ate and drank and repeatedly talked and laughed some more as if the miles between Brandon, S.D. and Sacramento, Calif., were more like Brandon to Sioux Falls. Years and miles, I’m happy to say, has not taken its toll on our friendship.

As we enjoyed time on my patio, I found myself thinking about how fortunate we are. Life has taken us in different directions. We’ve experienced different careers, different communities, different triumphs and heartaches. We’ve spent holidays together, mourned losses, and cheered each other on despite the hundreds of miles that separate us.

Yet somehow, the little girls who first met at the edge of neighboring backyards are still there.

There is something comforting about having a friend who knew you before you were anything other than a kid. Before careers, before responsibilities, before life became complicated. A friend who remembers your parents, your childhood home, your awkward phases and your dreams. A friend who doesn’t need an explanation because she already knows the backstory.

We don’t talk every day. Sometimes weeks or even months slip by between conversations. But when we do connect, we simply pick up where we left off. No keeping score. No guilt. No expectations. Just friendship.

I know not everyone is lucky enough to have a friendship that has endured for six decades. The truth is, neither Trish nor I have done anything extraordinary to make it happen. We’ve simply continued showing up for each other, year after year, mile after mile.

As she heads back to California this week, I can’t help but feel grateful. Grateful for moving day all those years ago. Grateful that two stubborn little girls who warned each other to stay off their lawns decided moments later to become friends instead.

Sixty years later, it’s still one of the best decisions either of us ever made.