On old friends

This past weekend, I was walking down the platform at King’s Cross on my way to Spitalfields market, and found myself walking towards a very familiar face: one I hadn’t seen in a couple of years, but instantly recognisable nonetheless.

Adam was at my sixth form college (let’s not think too hard about how long ago that actually was), and was one of those people who instantly welcomed me in – slightly awkward teenage outsider that I was at the time – and became a fast, firm friend. Since then, we’ve kept in touch very sporadically (a lot of the onus for that falls on me): we went to different universities, had new friendship circles, and completely non-maliciously drifted apart until we barely saw each other any more.

None of that, however, detracted from the genuine pleasure I felt when I recognised him walking towards me the other day. A lovely (speedy) reunion took place, complete with hugs and giggles and slightly hopeless attempts to catch up on ALL THE NEWS over the course of a couple of minutes, before he had to jump on his next train. We made noises about meeting up soon for a proper catch up, and I must stay true to that and not fail to follow through.

My point is this: there is a certain kind of joy that comes from old friends, which can’t be replicated or bottled. It’s like a strange sort of magic, guaranteed to lift the spirits, and it doesn’t necessarily happen with everyone – just with those particularly special people who you’ve somehow managed to lose touch with, but certainly not intentionally.

Our lives are neither fleeting nor straightforward. Friendships come in different shapes and sizes as we grow up, and I think it’s actually quite rare to have lifelong friends. For the most part, we all experience people coming into our lives and taking on an important role for a particular stretch, and then more often than not life takes us in different directions and we lose touch. This doesn’t lessen the impact of those friendships, or mean they were of any less worth than those that lasted longer. As we grow and change, the kind of relationships we have – and the kind of things we look for in other people – naturally changes with us.

Maybe that’s why seeing an old friend is such a pleasure: you’re not just reminded of how much you loved that person, you’re also reminded of an old version of yourself. If you’re lucky, it’s a version of yourself that you can look back on fondly, even if they’re pretty different from present-day you. And, whether you and your old friend have grown in similar ways, or whether there’s still an echo of the old you in there, you may just find you can slip easily back into that same old friendly chemistry. If – as in my case – that’s a comfortable and welcoming fit, there’s really nothing nicer.

What it comes down to for me is this – life is about people. Life is about connections. Personally, I’ve always found that to be more important than places or work or ambition. The experiences I’ve had with the people around me have shaped me into the Jess that I am now, so I will never overlook the importance of those people when our paths happen to cross again.