It’s a familiar setting. The ambient clatter of a coffee shop immediately greets me at the door. It doesn’t sound the same as when I’m only walking in to grab a cup and bounce. This is the sound that welcomes me in to spend time—the clank of possibility in a cup.
The grinder roars, milk steams, and baristas sing out orders mostly for their own amusement (that’s what we did when I was a barista to stave off boredom). It’s the kind of sound that knows I’m here to write.
Naomi is already there, coffee in hand, having scouted the best table where we can spread out our laptops and still feel cocooned in quiet. We never get right to typing. First come the laughs, the shared sighs, the “Did you hear…?” moments. Then, slowly, we drift into the work.
She and I used to write together years ago, back when our writers group met faithfully every other week. Then life, as it does, scattered us. She leaned into marriage, her day-job leadership, and her knitting—at which she’s a magician. I dove headfirst into film criticism. But somehow, like threads finding each other again, we’ve woven ourselves back into rhythm. Our sessions double as discussion parlors on the good stuff—race, politics, hope, and of course, good books.
This is an important part of friendship for me—the blend of fun, getting stuff done, and deepening connection.
I’ve been a homebody most of my life. Solitary by nature, comfortable in my own head—perfect for writing, terrible for friendship maintenance. I love people, but I also love silence. I love big ideas, but I also love my couch.
Back in the day, I could also be described as a wild child. Oooh, I could cut a rug. Don't get me started on dancing to Michael and Janet.
But somewhere in my adult years, that balance tipped too far toward isolation. I dodged more and more invites, let more texts lapse into the digital expanse. The truth is, home is cozy and warm but the fire dims when it burns alone.
Leave it to Netflix to send me a little cosmic wink.
In In Your Dreams, Stevie gets a new friend—Baloney Tony—and let me tell you, he’s been hanging with me too. Animated or not, Baloney Tony (voiced by Craig Robinson) represents the kind of friend we all need: quirky, supportive, all the way down for the ride. Sometimes friendship comes in unexpected packages.
Me and Baloney Tony, Netflix's In Your Dreams
So this season of F 50, I’m steering differently. Friendship is top priority on the list. Especially since so many of us need a friend these days. Always actually.
Balance between the homebody and the wild child is my goal.
It starts small: showing up for coffee, answering texts, scheduling nights of dancing, making space for letting loose again and trying new things or returning to ones I let go like Hindi and knitting. For me, friendship has to hold three ingredients—conversation, curiosity and creativity. When these are present, I thrive. Let's make something. Let's break something. Let's do.
Naomi and I may just be picking up where we left off, but that one cup of coffee—those hours of writing and conversation—remind me that I’m not just a solitary creature. I’m part of the world: a living dialogue, a shared experiment in staying connected.
This is what I’m learning: friendship doesn’t have to be constant to be powerful. It’s a gift of to keep us anchored in the now, in ourselves, in our meaning and in outright fun.
So here’s to the friends who hold space for our silence and spark our imagination back to life. Here’s to coffee-shop clatter, half-finished sentences, and the steady thrum of coming together that says, you are doing this with like-spirited individuals and you are gonna love every minute of it.
Because in the F 50 era, we’re not just showing up for ourselves—we’re showing out for each other.