Last weekend, something wonderful happened: friends came to visit.
But not just any friends. These were a special kind of friends—people we met when our adult lives were just beginning. We were newly married, still figuring out who we were, and dreaming about what life would be like.
Roger and I met Jeff and Paula Chipman in New York City when Roger was getting his Ph.D. at Columbia, and Jeff was starting medical school there. We spent countless hours together in our tiny one-bedroom apartments near the George Washington Bridge, sometimes just the four of us, sometimes with a whole group of friends. And we explored the city together, talking and walking up and down Broadway on the Upper West Side, discovering the amazing food the city has to offer (one of our favorite memories was splurging and going to Nobu), and sharing our hopes and dreams for our families and careers.
They were some of our dearest friends.
But then life happened. Jeff graduated from medical school, and they went to Arizona. We eventually moved to Boston. Children came. Careers evolved. Our lives diverged as they so often do.
We exchanged the occasional Christmas card, but for the most part, we lost touch.
Until recently.
Over the past couple of years, we started reconnecting—and last weekend they came to visit us in Virginia.
It was serendipitous. Between all our schedules and commitments, somehow the stars aligned for two full days together. We fell right back into old rhythms—walking and talking, eating and laughing, sharing dreams again. Except this time, we weren’t talking about our futures—we were talking about the paths ahead of our kids, now all in their twenties. There was even a full-circle moment: when we met Jeff, he was just starting medical school; now, our son is beginning his own medical journey.
At one point, in the midst of all the wonderful reconnection, I thought, Why didn’t we stay in touch better? Some people are great at that, but it didn’t happen this time for us. And it made me sad.
Reconnecting reminded me of the value of friendship. Of the importance of taking a few minutes to reach out to someone you care about—to someone who brings you joy.
At the same time—and this was a surprise: there was also a gift in the time apart.
The four of us had all lived our lives, grown up, and—fortunately—grown into ourselves. Without the in-between messiness of all that growing, we can meet each other again from a different place. Still friends, just wiser.
And the cherry on top? I set aside work for those 48 hours—and everything still got done. Somehow, the alchemy of friendship is such that your life slows down when you connect.
When we make space for the things that fill our lives—the people, the moments, the connection—we don’t lose time. We gain joy. Energy. Contentedness. The joy from work spills into our personal lives. The joy from our personal lives flows back into work.
So here’s my invitation this week: Reach out to someone who once brought you joy. Say hello to the person you’ve been meaning to reconnect with. Not because you need to maintain perfect relationships, but because reconnection—even after years apart—has its own kind of magic.
All best,
Whitney
P.S. This is a photo of Paula and me—she threw a baby shower for me—when I was pregnant with our son, David.
