comfortable with quiet

Submitted this recently to a “friendship blog post contest” but didn’t win, so I didn’t want it to go to waste…


I can still see us, rumbling home from another Summerfest concert in her beat up Jimmy, eating Hot Tamales and flipping through her 96-slot CD holder. We’re so comfortable with one another by this point that we’re not even talking. She’s about to head off to college while I still have a year of high school left, and over the past three years we’ve become like family.

However, I can’t help but wonder if we’d be friends if we met today. Now in our late 20s, we’d notice the difference between my clean-cut Gap style and her artsy accessories and asymmetrical haircut, but we’d never get down to the fact that we could both spend hours roaming through a thrift store.

We’d find out we’re both in graduate school and discuss our different majors, but then go our separate ways before realizing that we both love to play show tunes on the piano, one hand at a time.

We might even breach the subject of religion and realize that our beliefs don’t mesh, never taking the time to look deeper to understand we both hold a deep respect for and great memories of attending Catholic midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.

Being friends with Roberta reminds me that we are more than our Facebook profiles indicate. No one is ever accurately defined by a cliché or stereotype, and I should not write off a potential friend because we don’t listen to the same music or earn a similar amount of money. It reminds me to look for the little points of commonality in someone else which can lead to becoming the type of friends that are comfortable with one another even in silence, content to be driving home together in the dark, passing the Hot Tamales back and forth.


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