Real Friendship Takes Intention…and It Starts with You

Iraise my arm, unfurl my fingers halfway. I’m about to wave, and then I stop.

It’s a little red car, just like hers, but it’s not my friend Sarah driving by. She moved to Tennessee this summer, butI still see her everywhere.

It feels a little bit like grief, this loss – like when you spot your loved one across the pyramid of Golden Delicious in the grocery store or dashing out of the post office as you pull into the parking lot. Yourealize, in a split second, that it’s not her, of course it...