This story is part of our March 2025 issue. To subscribe, click here.

I can’t remember the exact moment it happened, but ever since our mothers dressed us up in white, poufy chiffon dresses with inflatable petticoats underneath to recite a poem together at our Christmas kindergarten pageant, we became best friends.

I was the lucky one. Brenda’s father owned the neighborhood deli around the corner in the tiny New Jersey town where we grew up. (How many friends do you have who had a kielbasa smoker in their backyard?) As children, we would use the big boxes that packaged goods came in as forts and dollhouses. And when we were teenagers, we walked downstairs from their upstairs apartment into the deli, and Brenda would slice cold cuts and fresh bread to make sandwiches as a nighttime snack.

Sue, who was also in that kindergarten class, made our group a trio, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Sue and I were roommates after college in a tiny apartment above a former Moose Lodge. Oh, what fun we had at our first taste of young adult freedom. She was a teacher who worked days while I was a reporter working nights, so we shared clothes and spent Friday nights getting all dressed up to dance at clubs during the disco era. Even as Brenda moved to Florida for college and I moved to California, we remained close through marriages, having children, divorces and careers. More than 30 years ago, I started a weekend getaway once a year where we would explore different cities around the U.S. We ate shrimp and grits in Charleston, drank rum runners and munched on conch fritters at sunset in Key West, played cowgirls on horseback in Jackson, Wyoming, and for our big 50th birthday, we flew to Paris and rented a villa in the Loire Valley. Those trips continue to this day, and it’s always fun planning the next destination. 

There’s something special about female friendships. For me, my two friends are the sisters I never had. They knew me as a shy little girl, an awkward teenager, a young adult with career dreams, a new Mom and middle-aged woman. My parents and brother have passed, yet Brenda and Sue remain, sharing with each other all the details of our lives.

Our female friends are the ones we have belly laughs with over some silly story or gossip about those we know or don’t know. They’re also the ones we turn to when a parent is dying, when we have a painful breakup or heartache or suffer the loss of a beloved pet. We don’t even have to worry about what to say, knowing they are there for us and will understand.

I’ve made other friends along the way. Some are there only for a season of life, like my friend Rose, who introduced me to her Mexican culture as we were building our writing careers together during our 20s in L.A. We used our media connections to get into Hollywood movie openings and mingle among stars, or order just one drink at the latest, hottest restaurant because that’s all we could afford. Then there were the “mom friends,” like Lynn and Karen, who I would walk with an hour each day on the American River bike trail after we dropped our kids off at school. Work friends came along, and I’m blessed to remain close with many of the people I worked with at KFBK for 20 years, especially Kitty O’Neal. We used to have great, private conversations in the studio as we were putting her show together, sharing how hard the breaking news business is. Then there was Laura from my church book club, with whom I trained and walked a half marathon.

The thing is, friendships aren’t easily made or sustained as we get older. Author, podcast host and former lawyer Mel Robbins addresses this, explaining it’s easy to make friends in childhood and college when you all live in the same town and attend the same school, but once you’re an adult, people live all over the place and are at different stages of their lives and careers. Robbins calls it “The Great Scattering.”

“Suddenly, you’re on different timelines. You’re in different cities. You’re moving in different directions,” Robbins said on the Jay Shetty podcast. “You have to let people come and go.”

I’ve had to let some friends go, reluctantly, because we grew apart, either through our interests or geography. The ones who’ve remained for decades know we can share our fears and concerns with each other without being judged. But they will also tell me if I’m wrong or have gone too far. Even if we have political differences, if you have that strong friendship foundation, they will listen and acknowledge your point of view, even if they disagree.

Once upon a time, Brenda or Sue would help me up if I fell off my bike and skinned my knee. A good female friend continues to uplift you as you navigate the sometimes rocky course of life.   

Stay up to date on business in the Capital Region: Subscribe to the Comstock’s newsletter today.