Sometimes a Friend Comes Along…
What started as a bold kayaking invitation turned into the most meaningful friendship after 40 I could have imagined.
I ambushed Christine.
I’m not proud of it. Well, actually, I am a little proud of it — because it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
We met on a job a few years ago. She was from out of town, working in my area for a few months. I was minding my own business in a room full of cubicles (is that possible in cubes?? lol) when I overheard her telling someone about kayaking plans for the upcoming weekend. In my area of town. My first thought was what — someone my age who actually wants to do things? Active things? My second thought was how do I get myself invited to this?
So I asked her some questions. Then I asked if she wanted company. I had my own kayak and a truck that could haul them both. She agreed — graciously, I think, given that I was essentially a stranger who had just invited herself on her weekend plans.
We paddled around checking out the local scenery, the foliage, the wildlife — including her favorite part: the ‘alligator’ that I got my kayak stuck on top of… It was actually cypress roots but you couldn’t convince me of that at the time. In my defense, I grew up in Texas and Louisiana. We were in the swamp in black water. There must be gators waiting to dump us out of our boats and eat us. I digress… Christine and I talked the whole time. By the end of the day I knew I’d found something rare: a friend who wanted to actually go do things.
We’ve been “fun pals” ever since.
Friendship After 40
A couple of years ago we ended up on a four-month work trip together in Jacksonville, Florida. What could have been a boring four months of hotel rooms and takeout turned into something else entirely. Power walking the trails at the local arboretum. Weekend road trips. Museums. A castle made entirely of seashells. The Salvador Dalí museum. Watching a glassblower work molten glass into something beautiful with nothing but breath and intention. Kayaking alongside wild monkeys and manatees in natural hot springs — which is a sentence I never expected to say in my life.
And wine. And tapas. And more laughs than I can count.
Christine is the kind of person who says yes. Not recklessly — thoughtfully. She seeks out experiences the way some people seek out things to own. She said it to me once, plainly and perfectly:
“I’m at the point in my life where it’s no longer about accruing things. It’s about experiences.”
I remember exactly where I was when she said it. And I remember the way something shifted quietly in my chest — like a key turning in a lock I didn’t know was there.
Finding Myself
Because she was describing me. The me I wanted to be, anyway.
For years I’d been trying to fill something. You know the feeling — that vague restlessness that sends you down a craft supply aisle or onto an Etsy rabbit hole at midnight. I tried hobbies. Side hustles. Accumulated things I thought would make me feel more like myself. None of it stuck. None of it filled anything.
Then, a couple of years ago, I found my faith. And something settled. The noise got quieter. The things stopped mattering so much. I started to understand — slowly, imperfectly, still figuring it out — that what I was actually hungry for wasn’t stuff. It was meaning. Connection. The feeling of being fully alive in a moment.
Christine had known that for years. God got me there eventually too.
And then Christine said let’s go hiking and I said yes before I could think about it.
This blog — this whole hiking journey — is the intersection of all of that. It’s me learning, finally, how to be a person outside of my roles. Not just someone’s wife or someone’s mother or someone’s analyst. Just a person, walking through something majestic that she didn’t make and couldn’t control, feeling grateful down to her bones.
Christine is coming with me on the John Muir Trail in August. Of course she is.
I can’t wait to tell you how it goes.
— Barbara
What started as a bold kayaking invitation turned into the most meaningful friendship after 40 I could have imagined.
