Perspectives

On the way home from class, I aimlessly wandered into an Asian bakery. The store was empty but for two young girls. They too wandered up and down the rows of delicate cakes and cookies, but they were clearly having the time of their lives – talking, laughing, exchanging knowing smiles, giggling at private jokes.

“That’ll be $4.50. Is that all for you?”

The cashier’s faint voice drifted like a wisp of smoke into my ears. I hadn’t realised I staring at the girls, lost in a trance of thoughts. Snapped back into reality, I somehow stood in front of the checkout counter with a pack of cookies in my hands. They were vanilla, I don’t even like vanilla. The girls had reminded me of something familiar, something identifiable at once – best friends, carefree in each other’s company. Once again, as I had so often done since moving countries six months ago, I started to miss my friends.

I remember reading a New York Times article sometime ago about making friends over the age of thirty. “As people approach midlife, the days of youthful exploration, when life felt like one big blind date, are fading”, it argued. As they age, people settle for K.O.Fs – “kind of friends”, who have similar interests and backgrounds, the kind that can you can hang out with to fulfil a need to socialise, not the kind you call at 3am when you wake up to a mid-life crisis.

For me, a new inhabitant in a sprawling city, it’s been a difficult process to find friends, or even K.O.Fs. Perhaps it’s a sign that we’re all finally adults, and friendships don’t come as easily anymore. In the long hours I spent missing friends spread across Asia, North America, and Europe, it dawned on me – this time around, it wasn’t the issue of finding new friends to socialise with, it was about missing the old ones, the irreplaceable ones.

Perhaps true friendship had a lifetime quota that has nothing to do with age. Each of us will find a number of others who “get” us, and you might make those connections in kindergarten, or college, or even a retirement home.  However, there is a limited number of them, and that explains why some of us make our best friends in high school and college, and some don’t find them until much later in life. I thought of all the friends who held special places in my heart – perhaps there just isn’t room for more. If I had indeed maxed out the friendship quota life bestowed on me… I still wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out onto the chilly street, I took a last glance back. The girls were still inside, content in their private playground, their bells of laughter drifting out through the automatic doors together with the aroma of warm butter, warming the evening air, and warming my heart.