November 1, 2021

I still remember the first long-distance phone call I had with my best friend from home. After four years of living just five miles apart from each other, Lillian was one week into college and had already experienced what seemed like a lifetime of events. As young ladies who had only ever known small Catholic schools, public universities and their breadth of opportunities were nothing short of mystical to us. Sitting in my childhood bedroom, I listened intently to her as I shared in the highs and lows of her first week at Grand Valley State University, anxiously awaiting my move to Ann Arbor, along with the stories I would soon have to tell.

Our calls continued on to become a sort of bi-weekly ritual. For the first half of college, we used the time to simply revel in our new lifestyles as we saw the world with fresh eyes. Happy to be in this stage of our lives, and to share it with our best friend across the state, it didn’t matter if we were letting the other know of an internship offer or of an awful first date. We were both entertained and inspired by the novelty of our lives.

But as the old saying goes (that I so often try to reject), “Nothing gold can stay.” When we began this semester as upperclassmen settled in our respective towns, it became painfully apparent that the newness of our young adulthood was starting to fade. The classes, jobs, and social scenes that once excited us were becoming constant sources of stress. Our calls that had been capturing the thrill of young adulthood gradually dimmed as our illustrious lives no longer shined so bright.

As clearly as I remember our first call, I remember the night of Wednesday, September 8. I sat with my airpods in, eating a chapati in the Law Quad, crying as Lillian did 120 miles away. Overtaken by both my individual woes and those of my best friend, I felt defeated. After an hour of what felt more like therapy than catching up, I headed for my friends’ apartment to continue my wallowing. I was prepared to end yet another call on a very bleak note until Lillian, in a moment of desperation and utter brilliance, suggested “What if we start texting each other? Just once a day, at least one good thing that happens to us?” 

And so, our “good thing a day” texts began. 

Now I won’t try to sell you this idea as a cure for all of our problems, as that was never the intent. Nothing can change the fact that life is hard, misfortunes will continue to come our way, and stressors will find us everyday. But what these texts have done is ensure that we don’t miss out on our successes in the midst of our stresses. 

We had fallen into the horrible habit of only sharing the lowlights of our days, making it an inevitably hard time remembering any of what made us smile. But, when we started intentionally sharing our triumphs, it became easy to find more. For example, when she says that she had a good workout, I gain more appreciation for the run I went on, and my list of good things that day grows. As the positives pile up, the negatives are outshined. 

Perhaps most importantly, the simple texts have reminded us that a friend’s role is more than offering love and support in times of trouble. Working through each other’s sadness has to coincide with amplifying each other’s happiness. 

The frustrations that we (still) let out on our phone calls will fade into the universe, but our texts are lasting reminders that there is good in everyday life. So, maybe some of what’s gold can stay.