Diamonds

July, to me, is the great American month—fireworks, barbeques, and long nights outside holding tight to light that lingers. My nights lately have been spent cheering on local sports teams with friends, cokes in hand, while we sit on the grass and gossip about our lives. Best of all, nights like this always include laughter, the kind that feels like tangible happiness you wish you could bottle and drink in the cold month of February. Truth be told, nothing makes me happier than seeing a friend smile so wide it's almost audible or laugh so loud, you know it comes from their middle.

I read somewhere that as you age, you don't need a lot of friends, you just need real ones. In college, the pressure to know everyone was overwhelming, and confidence seemed to be built on the contacts in your phone and the number of hellos you said on campus. But as someone who inherently keeps a small circle around me, the changing friendships of adulthood suit me. The list of people I lean on is short, but our mutual experiences together long. I have friends that care when you break up with the same person for the 20th time, but listen to you like it's the first; friends that know what to say to make you laugh and know when silence and a good movie are the best remedy for a very bad day; friends that joy in your successes even when their own hearts were needing a victory; friends that never forget you, forsake you, or stay mad at you too long.

In the words of a great writer, "it is not diamonds that are a girl's best friend, but your best friends who are diamonds. It is your friends who are supremely resilient, made under pressure, and of astonishing value. They're everlasting; they can cut glass."

To all the diamonds in my life—I am shaped by your perspective and in constant awe of your hearts.