Be The Glue

On my very first day of high school, I was terrified. My older neighbor who I adored drove me to school and we parked in the coveted “senior lot.” She got out and was immediately surrounded by her group of girlfriends, and I looked around and saw a bunch of people I didn’t recognize. My middle school was divided between two high schools, and all of my closest friends went to the other one, so I didn’t have many friends to walk to class or eat lunch with on the first day. Clutching my lunchbox in one hand and feeling a lump in my throat start to creep up, I prepared to try and find my first class by myself.

Then, a miracle appeared in the form of a lanky, red-headed girl named Caroline.

“Do you want to walk in with me? I’m a freshman, too.”

We were then joined by a group of three other girls that Caroline was already friends with from middle school—Betsy, Alexandra, and Lindsay. Caroline was my first friend in high school, and while she didn’t need me, I needed her and everything that that first walk from the parking lot through the doors of South Mecklenburg High School has given me over the past eight years. 

Over the years, our group of seven has seen each other grow up in a way that not even our parents have. We were there for boyfriends, breakups, college applications, losses, accomplishments, and everything in between. Unlike what the movies and TV shows tell you, we never really had much “girl drama.” We were and are an almost perfectly calibrated combination of personalities, strengths, and weaknesses. We each serve a distinct purpose within our little family, and as we’ve grown up, each of them has only become more valuable to me as individuals.

When graduation was just around the corner, I struggled deeply with coming to terms with the fact that most high school friend groups stay in high school. I was so excited to go to UNC and meet new people, but I was the only one of my friends who would be there, so I was terrified of losing this group that I felt so closely bonded to. When we all eventually had to say goodbye that summer, it tore me up. I was so used to seeing them every day at school and every weekend when we’d go to football games, visit Lake Wylie, or just have a good, old-fashioned sleepover complete with snacks, movies, and whatever terrible-tasting wine coolers we could get someone’s older brother or sister to buy for us. I thought that our friendships would all fizzle out as we formed new lives with new people, but I was so wrong.

This past December, we all got together for dinner on my birthday. Winter and summer breaks are some of the only times we get to all be together, so having everyone sitting around the same table for the first time in over a year was the greatest gift I could’ve asked for. As I looked around at the group of 21- and 22-year-old women, a strange mix of nostalgia and pride washed over me, as I thought about the 15-year-old girls I’d met on that first day of high school all getting ready to go out into the real world and take on adulthood. We ate deliciously rich dishes from Little Mama’s, laughed over wine, and filled our conversations with a mix of talking about people from our past and plans for our future. 

Then, Cecelia—the feel-good-junkie of our group—proposed that we all go around the table and each say one thing we love about every person at the table. Some of us laughed and rolled our eyes, but nevertheless, we went along with it. You just can’t say no to Cecelia.

What transpired was a beautiful, spoken love letter to our friendships. Was it cheesy? Hell yeah, but none of us seemed to care. As we went around and talked in detail about what made each of us so special to each other, I realized that the value I hold for the subtle sanctity of our little group was not lost on anyone at the table: We all see how special it is to grow up with a group of women who have seen you evolve from an awkward and immature high school freshman to a complex and ambitious young woman.

We talked about Lindsay’s ability to be hilarious and sarcastic without ever losing her kindness. About Cecelia’s inspiring dedication to her faith that took her on an adventure around the world. About Caroline’s constant dependability—no questions asked, no matter how badly you messed up. Alexandra’s way of always making you feel like you’re picking up right where you left off, even if it’s been months. Betsy’s contagious kindness that makes everyone feel like they’ve known her for years. Maddie’s genuine enthusiasm for even the smallest accomplishments others make. When my turn rolled around, my friends—in different combinations of words—told me that they were grateful for my role as “the glue” of our friendships.

All my life, I’ve been told that I’m smart by teachers, funny by friends, pretty by boyfriends, and accomplished by my parents. But being told by people who have seen me at some of the lowest points of my life—times when I definitely didn’t behave like a smart, funny, pretty, or accomplished young woman—that I’m “the glue” is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten. Looking back on how scared I was that our group would fade out as college faded in, I thought that the time and effort I put in to making sure that didn’t happen went overlooked or—even worse—was a waste. Around the dinner table over gnocchi and cabernet sauvignon, I realized that that couldn’t be further from the truth.

As I prepare to graduate from college in May, I know I’m going to have to say a whole new set of goodbyes soon to the incredible friendships I’ve formed at UNC. Having in the back of my head that I have the ability to be “the glue” even from miles away and months between takes away a little bit of the fear I had when I graduated high school that my friendships were built on convenience and are situational. Knowing that a group of girls I met in the high school parking lot are eventually going to be the women who stand next to me on my wedding day, hold my future children, and celebrate my fiftieth birthday with me motivates me to invest in every friendship I’m lucky enough to have even when it’s inconvenient or difficult. 

So, to my fellow high school and college seniors, be “the glue;” it won’t go unnoticed. And always say hi in the parking lot.

Read more of my blog posts HERE.