The sonar ping from my phone snapped my head away from my computer screen one evening last week. I glanced at the text alert and grinned.
The string of emojis translated to: "Phone handset. Phone handset. Transistor radio. Analog TV. Typewriter. Film projector. VHS tape. 35mm camera. Floppy disk. Clamp. Apple watch. Computer monitor. iPhone. iPhone. iPhone. iPhone."
Without hesitation, I texted back: "Rose. Dragon. Gorilla."
The response came a few days later: "Analog TV. Apple watch. and Pink bow. Bed. Dancing twins. Cool sunglasses smiley. Nerd glasses smiley?"
I waited 48 hours and replied: "Mermaid. Heart with a bow. Snowman. Donut. Waving hand. Cool sunglasses smiley."
This might all make more sense when you know that my correspondent was a 12-year-old girl whom I have know since she was born. I've known her dad since we were both about 13, and her mom since we were in our mid-20s. My young emoji pal was the first child born into our gang of friends and, until her brother came along a couple of years later, we joked that all of her friends were over five feet tall.
Last summer, I had the opportunity to spend a few days with my mini-pal and her family at their home in Seattle. It was the first time I'd had a long visit with them since our crew of pals began popping off in different directions four or five years ago. In addition to their cross-country move, two other families headed out to Portland. One of the men moved to Africa, where he married and welcomed a son. Another family moved closer to home, but far enough away that visits require a plan. One of the women just married recently and moved into the deep woods of New England with her husband. The few who stayed local have kids, and homes, and priorities that are (as they should be) vastly different from what they were back when my emoji-happy buddy was a baby.
Still, from minute one, when I stepped out of the car in a hilltop neighborhood in the Emerald City, I was back with my people. The kids were excited to show off new skills and new favorite places. And new texting capabilities. Their dad was thrilled to show off his office building. And their mom and I ran away for a day to wander the markets and sample the local delicacies and catch up on the kinds of conversations that deeply trusted old friends have when they reconnect, no matter how long it's been.
Since then, now and again, a string of emojis periodically appears on my phone. Just one of my kid-friends, saying hi. And I'm more than happy to send a hi right back.
I was reminded of that this weekend, when another of those grand friends was in town briefly with her husband and girls. Over diner breakfasts, we skipped all of the small talk and got straight to the things that mattered. The color of skis. The state of their front-yard luge run. Help needed. Happy developments. Plans and planes and news of mutual friends.
Still another friend from farther back, just weeks ago, called on all of us from elementary and high school (now twenty- to thirty-mumble years back) in the final hours of her mom's life. Despite being on opposite sides of a continent, communicating by group messages, the waves of love and support that flowed that night were palpable. If we'd been in the same place, there's no doubt we would all have dropped everything to make food, sit in waiting rooms, or fiercely defend the family's space and time to gather themselves.
I have a few local friends who are my go-tos, and who will remain pals even if I take off for parts unknown. And no matter where I go, my gang of friends goes with me in heart and spirit, even if it takes years to see one another in person.
So, as I look ahead this year, it's the people who fit like that who are the ones I want to find. Wherever I go, I'll be looking out for the people who feel like family from the start. They're the ones who make a place worth being while you're there. And they're the ones who have your back, no questions asked, no matter where you go, down the road.