The Art of Grit

(5 Minutes)

When Distance Doesn’t Matter and Silence Speaks Volumes

There’s something almost magical about those friendships that survive despite everything working against them. You know the ones—where months or even years can pass without a single text, call, or coffee date, yet when you finally reconnect, it feels like no time has passed at all. These relationships don’t follow the conventional rules of modern friendship maintenance. They don’t require constant updates, regular check-ins, or perfectly curated social media interactions to stay alive.

The truth is, some friendships are built on a foundation so solid that they can weather the storms of busy careers, cross-country moves, marriage, children, and all the other life changes that tend to scatter our social circles. These aren’t the friendships that need daily nurturing—they’re the ones that thrive on something deeper: mutual understanding, shared history, and an unspoken agreement that some connections transcend the ordinary demands of staying in touch.

The Reality of Adult Friendship

I’ve been thinking about how different friendship feels now compared to when I was younger. There’s something almost jarring about realizing that maintaining connections as an adult requires intention in ways it never did before. In college, friendships happened naturally—late-night conversations in dorm hallways, shared meals, the luxury of unstructured time. Now, staying connected feels like swimming against a current of responsibilities, deadlines, and exhaustion.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who feels this way. Friends move away for job opportunities, and suddenly the casual coffee dates become impossible. People get married and their social circles shift. Others have children and disappear into that intense, consuming world of early parenthood. Some pursue dreams that require sacrifice, including the sacrifice of regular social connection.

I used to interpret these changes as personal failures—mine or theirs. But I’ve come to understand that these aren’t betrayals or signs of friendship ending. They’re simply what happens when people grow into their adult lives. What strikes me as remarkable is how some friendships not only survive these transitions but seem to grow stronger because of them. These are the friends who somehow understand that silence doesn’t equal indifference, that physical absence doesn’t reflect emotional distance.

The Unspoken Language of Lasting Bonds

I’ve noticed there’s something almost telepathic about certain friendships. You know the ones—where months pass without contact, yet when you finally reconnect, you slip back into conversation as if no time has elapsed. I used to think this was coincidence, but now I believe it’s something deeper.

These friendships seem to operate on their own frequency. They’re not sustained by weekly check-ins or monthly dinners, though those are wonderful when they happen. Instead, they’re held together by something more mysterious: the knowledge that you fundamentally understand each other. You’ve witnessed each other through significant moments, shared experiences that created an unspoken language between you.

When life gets overwhelming and I can’t keep up with regular contact, these friends somehow know. They don’t take my silence personally. They don’t demand explanations or apologies. There’s an understanding that sometimes we’re all just doing our best to keep our heads above water, and that’s okay.

I find myself wondering about the mathematics of these connections. How is it that some friendships require constant tending while others can lie dormant for years, only to bloom again at the first sign of contact? What creates this resilience in some relationships but not others?

The Strength in Simplicity

Perhaps the most beautiful aspect of these enduring friendships is their simplicity. They don’t require elaborate gestures or constant validation. They don’t need to be performed for social media or maintained according to some prescribed formula. They exist in their own quiet way, resilient and real.

This doesn’t mean these friendships are neglected or taken for granted. Rather, they’re based on a mature understanding that true connection isn’t measured in frequency of contact but in the quality of understanding between two people. These friends know that when you need them, they’ll be there. They know that when they need you, you’ll show up. That knowledge creates a sense of security that transcends the need for constant communication.

The Forgotten Art of Reaching Out

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the friends who cross my mind at random moments. The college roommate who had an infectious laugh. The colleague from my first job who somehow always knew the right thing to say. The friend from home who knew me before I became whoever I am now. The person who showed up during one of the darkest periods of my life and helped me find my way through.

These names surface in my consciousness without warning—triggered by a song, a smell, a place, a story someone tells. I find myself wondering what they’re doing now, whether they’re happy, if they ever think about the time we spent together. And then, more often than I’d like to admit, I let the moment pass without acting on it.

There’s something both comforting and unsettling about realizing how many meaningful connections exist in this state of suspended animation. They’re not gone, exactly, but they’re not actively present either. They exist in that strange space between memory and possibility.

I’ve started to wonder why I hesitate to reach out. Is it fear of disrupting their current life? Uncertainty about whether I’d be welcome? Or is it something simpler—the strange paralysis that comes from not knowing how to bridge a gap that time has created?

Making the First Move

The beautiful thing about reaching out to an old friend is that it’s almost always welcome. People don’t typically respond to a genuine “I was thinking about you” message with annoyance or frustration. More often, they respond with warmth, gratitude, and often relief that someone made the first move.

You don’t need a special occasion or a profound reason to reach out. A simple text saying “I was thinking about you and wondering how you’re doing” can open the door to a conversation that reminds you both why your friendship has endured. Sometimes that’s all it takes—one person being willing to bridge the gap of silence.

The gesture doesn’t have to be grand. You don’t need to plan an elaborate reunion or write a lengthy letter explaining your absence. Sometimes the most meaningful connections happen through the simplest outreach: a brief message, a shared memory, a genuine inquiry about their life.

The Ripple Effect of Reconnection

When you make the effort to reconnect with an old friend, something interesting happens. It often creates a ripple effect, inspiring both of you to reach out to other people you’ve been meaning to contact. It reminds you of the value of these connections and the joy that comes from nurturing them.

Moreover, these conversations often reveal how much you’ve both grown and changed, yet how much of the fundamental connection remains the same. You get to see your friend through fresh eyes while also being reminded of the person you were when you first became friends. It’s a unique perspective that can be both nostalgic and forward-looking.

The Time Is Now

If you’re waiting for the perfect moment to reach out to an old friend, here’s a gentle reminder: there is no perfect moment. Life will always be busy, complicated, and full of competing priorities. There will always be a reason to put off that text, that call, that coffee invitation.

But somewhere out there, your friend is probably thinking about you too. They’re probably wondering how you’re doing, what’s new in your life, whether you ever think about the times you shared together. They might be hesitating to reach out for the same reasons you are—uncertainty about whether enough time has passed, worry about being intrusive, or simply the inertia that comes with busy adult life.

Don’t let another month, another year, or another decade pass without making that connection. The friends who have stood the test of time, distance, and silence are rare treasures. They deserve to know that they’re remembered, valued, and missed.

Your phone is within reach. Your fingers know how to type a message. Your heart knows which friends deserve that message. The only question is: what are you waiting for?

A Simple Challenge

I’m writing this as much for myself as for anyone else. While researching this piece, I kept thinking about Sarah, a friend from graduate school who I haven’t spoken to in almost two years. She was one of those people who could make me laugh until my sides hurt, who listened without judgment during my quarter-life crisis, who celebrated my small victories as if they were her own.

The last time we texted, we made vague plans to catch up “soon.” That was twenty months ago.

I know she’s living her life—I see glimpses of it through social media. A new job, a move to a different city, what looks like a serious relationship. But I don’t know the details, the struggles, the small joys that make up the texture of her days. And she doesn’t know mine.

So perhaps this is less of a challenge and more of a confession: I’m going to text Sarah after I finish writing this. Not because I have news to share or because I need something from her, but because I miss the particular kind of conversation we used to have. Because some connections are too valuable to let slip away through simple inaction.

Maybe you have a Sarah too. Maybe you’ve been thinking about reaching out but haven’t quite found the right moment. Here’s what I’m learning: there is no right moment. There’s only the moment you decide to act on the impulse to reconnect.