The Autumn of Deep Friendships
Learning from the trees how to love and let go
Our dear friends John and Mary have been visiting us in Northern Colorado for the past few days. We've been friends since our twenties, and time together feels like returning to the shade of an old, familiar tree—one that has weathered countless seasons of life. Old friends remind us of life’s constancy amidst all the changes, their steady presence like deeply rooted trees offering shelter through every storm and sunny day.
We’ve filled the last few days with hiking, sharing good meals, and marveling at the brilliant colors of the changing fall leaves. We've had countless conversations, touching on everything from family news and our current lives to the state of the world, politics, and the devastation left by Hurricane Helene. Together, we wrestle with how to respond to these challenges, searching for ways to act meaningfully rather than succumbing to despair. We share a deep concern for the world we’re leaving behind for our adult children.
We retell our favorite stories and inside jokes as if hearing them for the first time, savoring the comfort of our well-worn memories that have grown and matured over four decades. With old friends, there’s no need to explain any backstory or fill in gaps. We slip effortlessly into our old rhythms, trading jokes and reliving long-held traditions, free from any need to impress or perform. We know each other’s quirks and flaws, and instead of tiring of them, we cherish them, like the familiar knots in a tree’s bark. They reflect who we’ve become, and there’s a sweet recognition in seeing how we’ve all shaped and supported each other’s growth along the way. Friendships like this - chosen family - feel like a canopy of shelter offering a profound sense of belonging and shared history that only deepens with time.
In between the heavier topics, we laugh—often and easily. Yet beneath the laughter lies a bittersweet truth: we’re not kids anymore. Even though we still feel young at heart, the realities of aging are undeniable. We talk more often now about the aches, worries, and inevitabilities that come with getting older. And it seems that weekly, we lose either a friend or someone from our past - like an actor, musician, or writer - who feels like one. Just two days ago, each of our families lost a friend suddenly, on the same day. We are losing more and more friends and our shared losses are mounting. The thought of losing someone from our tight-knit circle looms larger, reminding us that our time together is diminishing.
As the years pass, each gathering feels more precious. We are acutely aware of how fortunate we are to still have each other—to still be laughing, reminiscing, and walking through life together. Even in our conversations about life’s harder truths, there’s a warmth and ease, an unspoken understanding that we’ve weathered life’s storms together and are stronger for it. We’re filled with gratitude for the laughter, the meals, the deep conversations, and the quiet moments of simply being together. Most of all, we’re thankful for the enduring connection, knowing that as the years pass, our roots are even more tightly intertwined.
The trees around me continue to be my teachers.
Each fall, I walk through a vibrant cascade of orange, yellow, red, and lime-green leaves, watching as they flutter gently past my shoulders, settling on the earth. The trees stand as silent teachers, reminding me that the only way to respond to life is to be fully present—to burst forth in color and when the time is right, to release with grace as the season calls for it. They show me how to embrace love and share it freely, without holding back. As winter approaches, the trees don’t resist; they instinctively know when it’s time to let go. Each fall, I witness their quiet surrender. And though I grieve their fading beauty, I try to learn from their wisdom. Let me be that graceful, Spirit.
What will come will come, and we will face it together, grounded in the strength we’ve built over many seasons of hardship and celebration. I take comfort in knowing that even as their leaves fall, the trees remain deeply rooted, their branches reaching upward, anchored under the vast, shared sky.
xo Mary
3 THINGS WORTH SHARING:
Crisis Contemplation by Dr . Barbara A. Holmes. “Engaging deeply with both history and current events, Crisis Contemplation addresses the emergence of contemplation during crisis, both individually and in community.” This book is an ideal companion for our current situation. Dr. B was one of my teachers during my time in The Living School, and she is a brilliant and comforting guide.
World Central Kitchen is first to the frontlines, providing fresh meals in response to humanitarian, climate, and community crises. Below, WCK delivers thousands of gallons of water and fresh food to hard-hit Southeastern US. Story here. Donate here.
This month, a portion of our paid subscriptions goes to HOPE LIVES! The Lydia Dody Breast Cancer Support Center. We are a small, local breast cancer non-profit serving clients in Larimer and Weld counties. Our mission is to improve the quality of life for our neighbors during a very scary and difficult time in their lives by partnering with various providers to mitigate some of the emotional, physical, financial, and spiritual side effects of treatment.
Pops of Fall Joy!
© Mary Thoma 2024
All Rights Reserved
I love your words on friendship!
Such beautiful words woven beautifully.