In Praise of Galentines

I don’t mean to come across as arrogant when I say this, but no one has better friends than I do. Long before Leslie Knope instituted her annual “Galentine” celebration or Brene Brown talked about people who will get down “in the arena” with us, my friends have been lifting me up with their constancy, love, and real talk.

My first Galentines were my mama and my sister, and they showed me that each of our companions offers something immeasurably valuable (and often very different). Mama’s friendship is the kind that will defend me to the death against detractors but will compel her to pull me aside and tell me about myself if I need to hear it. My sister, although a full six inches shorter than I am, has been fiercer than any personal protection dog when she thinks someone is picking on her “little” sister. She was also the one who would surreptitiously gulp the three green beans Mama always, in the spirit of eternal optimism, placed on my dinner plate and vowed not to let me leave the table until I’d eaten.

With the foundation of these strong and present allies at home, I learned to recognize the goodness in the people who’ve offered their friendship throughout my life. My middle school confidante, who was also my eighth-grade prom date (with matching dresses and corsages, no less!) felt that while our classmates might be more interested in the surprisingly complicated social scene of junior high, there was absolutely nothing wrong with us spending weekend nights flipping through Horse and Rider and debating our equine version of fantasy football picks.

In high school, my full blown (but as yet unidentified) introversion all but guaranteed that I wouldn’t darken the door of any adolescent fete, until a girl who’d just moved from out of state approached me to announced that they were making doughnuts at her house that weekend and I should come over. Sure, I was startled by her boldness, but who was I to miss out on homemade pastries? Thirty-five years, multiple academic degrees, countless jobs, births, deaths, love, and loss later, she still knows how to make me laugh so hard I have to lie down to catch my breath. She says the things she wishes she didn’t have to, but because she loves me, she does. This unwavering candor has kept me from continuing poor fashion choices and has caused me to think hard on the bigger life choices as well (even though her Aqua Net intervention of 1988 was fairly epic).

I know it’s not unusual or wrong for people to come into our lives only for a brief time, and I count myself lucky that the women with whom I’ve formed strong relationships have remained an important, if not daily, part of my life. Days, weeks, or even months pass between conversations. We can’t (and don’t want to) deny that families, careers, and the pursuit of our interests take the lioness’s share of our attention; that said, the random but not unexpected “Hey! I was thinking about you and want you to know I love you” texts are both sincere and treasured.

Whether we’re paddle boarding down the French Broad River talking about new jobs, sitting on someone’s couch emptying a coffee pot watching Planes, Trains, and Automobiles for the fiftieth time, or answering a phone call in the middle of the night with, “What’s happening? What do you need?” my friends have held my hand and held space for me more times than I can count, seen me at my rock bottom, celebrated me in my achievements, and that they’ve trusted me to do the same for them is a gift greater than they know.

On the surface I’m sure we look so very different from one another. The women in my life range from 20-something to 70-something; they are academics and athletes; they have husbands or wives, are childless or mothers to many. What every one of them has in common, though, are eyes that see the ones they love clearly and unconditionally. They’ve taught me what it looks like for love to show up each and every day, even when it’s not convenient or easy. I’ve learned from them to seek the best in others as well as myself, and to grant grace and mercy but never to lose the steel in my spine. As Shakespeare observed, “A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.” If that isn’t cause to celebrate our Galentines, I don’t know what is.