"Tell me about your friends"

I blinked a couple of times, this was a job interview, what did this have to do with anything? I stammered out something about a group of great people in another state who I used to hang out with.

Then I thought about it. My friends... my true friends weren't that conglomerate of people I used to hang with. They weren't an arbitrary set of people who went to the same church and shared the same interests.

These were my friends:

The girl who stood by me during one of the hardest days in my life. Just stood there, only three inches away, as an unchanging source of comfort, a hug ready the instant I looked like I needed it.

The guy who went on a walk with me that same terrible day. Stepping in front of all the people wanting to question and talk to me. Giving me space and silence for just a few minutes. He told me that he cried too when he heard the news, letting me know that I wasn't alone in my grief.

The girl who giggled with me over how we stuck out of the crowd, who was ready to do silly things with puppets for VBS. The girl I wish I could have gotten to know better.

The girl who stood by me as I went through difficult growing pains. Always ready to meet for a chat or try new things. The girl who came over and helped me paint and unpack and pack again. The girl who was the only one who truly seemed to understand.

The man who was patient enough to teach me something I feared. Pushing me into the drivers seat of his car until I learned how to control a steering wheel.

The girls who, though they couldn't understand why I was changing so rapidly or who this new me was, still took time to laugh over lunch with me. Continuing our friendship even though I was no longer the same person I had been. Being supportive even if they can't understand.

The guy who never really said much of anything. But somehow whenever someone criticized he'd come up out of nowhere with a smile and a compliment. The guy who always stopped to say hi, and was the only one to notice when I slipped away from the crowd.

The girl who just sat beside me every week. A bright smile, and a quick quip always ready.

The girl who, when we were only 12, giggled with me over our future careers as eccentric novel writers. The girl who is still my friend 10 years later. The girl I intend to go with to the assisted living home where we'll giggle over our past escapades, collect big fluffy cats, and become the 72 year old versions of our 12 year old selves.

The woman who trained me as a secretary, always patient always kind. A quiet source of encouragement. One of those background people that you know will always be there and you find comfort in their steadiness.

The girl who didn't try to tell me that everything would be okay, or that God would carry me through this hard time. But she read my face and hugged me as I numbly tried to wrap my head around everything.

Those are my friends. Not the people who showered me with comforting talk. Not the people who requested multiple hang out times and tried to include me in every activity. It wasn't the grand gestures or the talkative friendliness. My friends were the people who showed their friendship in the little things, doing and saying things they actually meant.