My friends call me about a lot of things.
A phone that won’t connect. Something they’ve been thinking about buying weeks. Where to drink. Sometimes it’s something harder to name.
Somewhere along the way, I became one of the people they call first.
I think I’m okay with that. More than okay, actually. I like being useful to people I care about.
I turned 35 recently and threw a birthday party. I invited the people I wanted there, and almost everyone came.
Ninety-five percent, if we’re being unnecessarily specific.
I noticed it sometime during the night. People had driven over, rearranged plans, made time. I don’t know that I needed proof that they cared about me, but it was nice seeing so many of them in one room.
Especially because I’ve heard some version of the same warning for years.
“You’re gonna get tired of this eventually.”
“It won’t always be like this.”
People usually mean being available. Showing up. Having a lot of people around.
They might be right. I might want something completely different ten years from now.
I just don’t know why I need to live like that’s already happened.
I’m happy with this part of my life. I like answering the call when I can. I like having people around. And apparently, when I ask those people to come to a birthday party, most of them actually do.
That feels worth enjoying while it’s here.
If I change later, I change later.
But for now… I think I’m good.