A Letter on Friendships That Outlast Distance
My Dearest Friend,
When I was a little girl, my mother often sang to me, “Make new friends, but keep the old — one is silver and the other gold.” Those words return to me often now as I think on the friendships that have endured the long years and longer miles. There is one friend in particular who comes readily to mind. She met me when I was still finding my footing as a very young mother, Bun balanced on my hip, fresh from weathering my first deployment. From that moment forward, she has remained with me through every chapter.
For nearly a decade she has been a steady thread woven into our story: coming to see us overseas when she could, visiting us in new places as the seasons of service shifted, and lingering with me on the telephone for hours when my heart was heavy. She is one of Bean’s godmothers — the voice that answers when I call at two in the morning, the encourager who steadies me when doubt creeps near, the friend who makes miles feel like mere inches. With her, I have known the rare delight of four‑hour phone calls that wander through every corner of life, and the deep comfort of picking up exactly where we left off, even after weeks of silence.
And she is not alone in this. There are others whose constancy has carried me across seasons, reminding me again and again that distance does not always diminish love. Not every friend becomes family. Yet some do — and when they do, they are the golden ones who shine brightest in the tapestry of our lives.
The Bonds That Endure
Some friendships I assumed would be lifelong have faded quietly, while others — both expected and unexpected — have proven their steadiness with time. Some friends are silver threads, newer and still gleaming bright, weaving themselves into our days with surprise and delight. Others are the long‑held golden strands, steady and rich with years of trust. And sometimes, in the stretching of distance, those silver strands are tested and strengthened until they gleam with a golden glow of their own. There is the friend whose little boy was Bun’s inseparable playmate overseas, who still journeys to see us years later, and who now shares the cherished role of godmother to Bean. There are the neighbors we only lived beside for six months who somehow became the sort of friends we now cross states to visit. There are the ones who send light‑hearted messages week after week, yet also hold space for the tender truths. Some friendships are stitched together by late‑night conversations; others by the gentle rhythm of annual holiday cards. Still others slip quietly into the background until one day, with no awkwardness at all, we pick up again as though no time had passed.
The Legacy We Inherit
I have come to see this is not unique to me. My parents still speak with Air Force friends decades after walking the same flight lines; my grandparents carried those bonds well into retirement, weaving visits and letters into the fabric of their later years. Such friendships grew into shared holidays, borrowed guest rooms, and a circle of people who became — in every sense — family. I remember the rhythm of holiday cards exchanged, the delight of reunions after years apart, and the way these ties stitched permanence into our transient life. Today, I see the same generosity reflected in the friends who welcome us when storms approach or who offer an open door when we are far from home.
This is the quiet inheritance of military life: though it uproots us again and again, it leaves behind silver and gold threads of belonging that do not fray with time or distance.
The Lesson
True friendships in this life are not bound by geography. Distance may stretch the silver threads thin, yet in their endurance they take on a golden shine, deepening into strands that glow richer with time. Often, the people one least expects to remain are the very ones who anchor us — steady and sure — reminding us that home is not merely a place but the people who stay woven into the fabric of our hearts.
Now, in this quieter season of ordinary days, that truth feels all the more steady. Our lives have taken on a familiar rhythm, and yet what endures are the silver and gold threads that continue to appear, even across time zones. Friendship does not always arrive with fanfare; sometimes it proves itself slowly, in faithful check‑ins, in the way Bun brightens when reunited with a long‑distance friend and slips easily back into play, in the way Bean curls contentedly into the arms of her godparents who make a point to visit us despite the miles, and in the laughter that flows as effortlessly after months apart as it once did in daily life.
To the Spouse Who Wonders if Their People Will Last
Take comfort. The truest friends are not undone by silence. Weeks or even months may pass, yet when you reach for them, conversation flows as though no time had slipped away at all. Such is the quiet assurance distance cannot take from us.
So when loneliness presses close and farewells feel unbearably heavy, remember this: the right ones remain. And along the way, new companions will appear — silver threads at first, then gold with time — weaving themselves into your story just when your heart most needs them. The miles may stretch long, but the ties of friendship are longer still, a tapestry bound together by silver and gold.
