Brunch, Burnt Orange, and the Timelessness of Friendship

There’s something magical about old friends—the kind who knew you before you had a credit score, before life handed you a few wrinkles and a collection of Tupperware lids that don’t match anything. The kind of friend who, no matter how much time passes, still holds a piece of your heart like they never left.

Last weekend, I met up with my best friend from high school for brunch, and for a moment—just a brief, wonderful moment—time folded in on itself. One minute we were sitting in a restaurant, sipping coffee like responsible adults, and the next, I swear I could hear Journey playing and feel the hum of her burnt-orange RX7 as we tore through town, windows down, singing Don’t Stop Believin’ at the top of our lungs.

How is it possible that three decades have passed, yet when we’re together, it still feels like we’re 16—like we just left drill team practice, where we spent hours perfecting high kicks, memorizing routines, and pretending our sequined hats were actually fashionable? I half expected to look down and see my acid-washed jeans and pink and green top siders, my biggest stress being whether my bangs had enough hair spray to hold through third-period Algebra II class.

Back then, life was a soundtrack of Livin’ on a Prayer blasting from cassette tapes, rewound by pencil when necessary. We had no idea where life would take us, but we knew one thing for sure: we were in it together. We’d dream big dreams while driving aimlessly down country roads, singing Girls just want to have fun by Cindy Lauper we certainly knew how to have fun.

And yet, here we are, all these years later—real heartbreaks behind us, life having thrown its share of curveballs, but somehow, we’re still us.

That’s the thing about friendships like this. They don’t follow the normal rules of time and space. Life happens—marriages, kids, careers, moves, loss, all of it—but when you finally reunite, none of it creates distance. You slide right back into the rhythm of who you were before life got so complicated.

And maybe that’s why we instinctively return to the comforts of before. The music, the laughter, the ridiculous stories that make you laugh so hard you nearly choke on your breakfast taco. It’s a reminder of who you’ve always been, the part of yourself that gets buried beneath mortgages, responsibilities, and learning how to properly parent adult kids.

I couldn’t help but think about a scene from the new Wicked movie, where Elphaba is at her lowest, facing something impossible, when she suddenly sees herself as a little girl. That moment reminds her of who she was before the world told her she couldn’t. And that gives her the courage to do something she never thought she could.v

That’s what friendships like this do. They remind us of who we were—and the strength we still have inside us. They bring back the fire, the belief, the certainty that we can face anything, just like we did back then.

And I’ve decided something—I’m not going to let so much time pass before I see her again. Life moves too fast, and these friendships are too precious to be put on the back burner. In fact, we’re already making plans to reconnect with more of our high school friends this summer—a small girls' reunion where we can sit, laugh, reminisce, and remind each other that while life may have changed us, our bond is still as strong as ever.

So if you’re reading this and thinking about your person—the one who knew you when you still had a walkman and thought Take My Breath Away was the most romantic song ever written—go find them. Call them. Meet them for coffee, for brunch, for a road trip where you roll down the windows and blast Don’t You (Forget About Me) like you did when life was simpler. Because trust me, seeing them again will feel like coming home.

And you won’t want to go so long without it again.