Wishcasting Wednesday: Feed the Hunger

"Look at all my new friends!"

This is the story my parents tell me about the morning they took me to my very first day of kindergarten. Filled with wide-eyed hope and enthusiasm for this next chapter in my little 5-year-old life, I saw a playground scattered with dozens of children and assumed each and every one would be my friend.

Not long after that, I remember my mom arranging my first playdate with the little boy from class, Jason, who would become my "very bestest" grade school buddy. On the first day of first grade, Patty and I sat next to each other and by recess we were inseparable. Jeremy was my not-so-secret crush in second grade. He, Jason and I spent hours playing on the bike trail near Jeremy's house or climbing the large blue spruce in my backyard.

As a child, new friendships seemed to enter life effortlessly. Sure, the friendships changed with different classroom assignments, moves, new schools and after school activities. But there always seemed to be someone to call to see a movie or wander the mall or simply hang out. Last night, I found myself invited not to a movie or a mall or a conversation, but a one-on-one pity party...with yours truly.

And it all started with a stupid television commercial.

Whenever I see a commercial or television show depicting a group of closely knit women, a part of me cringes inside. I've never had that. Sure, I have friends. I even have a couple of really good friends I know I could call at 3 am if need be. This isn't a sob story about a poor little girl sitting alone in the corner. But that inseparable group from high school, the college clique, the former roomies—all were experiences I never inhabited. And a piece of me can't help but grieve over those unknown experiences, especially when I try to figure out what I gained from living alone during college, or moving back home upon graduation to reclaim my role as "child" instead of spreading my wings, dealing with roommates, navigating the dating scene and living out the life of every other normal early 20-something.

I'd like to say I can see the silver lining in the situation, staying true to Stepping Stones Studio's mission of celebrating life's under-noticed, under-celebrated moments. I'd like to say that because of what I lost I gained deeper relationships with family members and a better understanding of myself. And I suppose I did to some extent, but not enough to offset the loss I feel whenever I see a group of BFFs laughing and smiling.

And so when Jamie Ridler of Jamie Ridler Studios asked on this week's Wishcasting Wednesday, "What hunger do you wish to feed?" the answer was automatic. I wish to feed the hunger for deep, lasting authetic friendships. I believe you can never have enough friends, but I want friendships and relationships that go deeper than simply being a friend by proxy or the friend someone calls when everyone else on the list is busy. And, like so many things, feeding this hunger starts with me.

It starts by calling a friend to celebrate their magic and ask how they are instead of calling to simply complain about myself and moan about my problems. It starts by making time in my schedule to be available and open to opportunities to see a movie, wander the mall or just hang out, not fitting them in when I have a couple of minutes to spare, but only after I've reschedule one or two other obligations.  Feeding the hunger for deeper, more authentic relationships starts by being more aware of what I am sending out into the world through my actions and words, and what I really want to receive in return.

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