“We’ll Always Be Those Girls”: Why Your Oldest Friends Matter So Much

“You guys saved my life,” she said, about halfway into the flight from Dallas to Bloomington. She was coming from New Mexico to our 40th class reunion in Illinois, and I was coming from Texas, but we didn’t realize we’d booked the same flight out of Dallas until I saw her sitting at the gate at the airport, a tumble of loose gray-brown curls falling on each side of her familiar face. She was talking to another classmate who would be on our flight. 

Even with the weight of that statement, “You guys saved my life,” we kept on chattering. No detailed explanation was necessary, and I won’t attempt to tell her story.  But I knew exactly what she meant.

 “No,” I said, “You guys saved my life.”