I got back late yesterday from a much-needed summer break. One of my nearest and dearest girlfriends, who now lives in another state, managed to organize a couple of kid-free days for the two of us in Asheville, North Carolina. It was rejuvenating in so many ways.

Among other things, we sampled some delicious food, consumed a good bit of beer and wine, roamed the eclectic city on

foot,  and visited the fantastic Blue Spiral art gallery. My friend has a bit of a crush on artist Will Henry Stevens, which is the ultimate in unrequited love since he died in 1949. He hangs out at the Blue Spiral, and so we did, too.

Somewhere in there we caught a movie (Joss Whedon’s Much Ado – yes!) and even got our toes done. She also tied me down and forced me to finally watch Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog. It was awesome.

But what we did most, which of course is my favorite part, was talk.

We talked for hours and hours and hours. We had no agenda or goal. There were tangents – so many tangents, layers on layers. Sometimes we made it back to the place we started and sometimes not, and either way was just fine. We just kept talking.  On foot, in the car, on the couch at the bed and breakfast. We talked about superficial things like clothes and deeper topics like politics and our families and the nature of friendship – even our own.

And to my delight, we talked quite a bit about books as well. My friend is well-read (maybe more than she realizes) and I love hearing what she’s enjoying and what she thinks I might enjoy too. Her love of books reminds me of a time when I read more than a book a week — a time long gone since graduate school, career and kids rearranged my priorities for me. But I’d like to get back there and it’s nice to be reminded. She chastised me for being inactive on goodreads, and I have promised her that I will do better there, too.

I am blessed to have a large number of friends from a variety of circles, many of whom have known me for not just years but decades. There’s a special gift in someone who has known you for almost as long as you have known yourself. We remember one another at some of our best and worst moments, and we have standing to call out one another’s bullshit when we hear it. And yet there is kindness there, too, and forgiveness and light. Someone who sees the broad arc of your life can smooth over the glitches and imperfections more easily, and at the same time challenge you to be better than you are — because she remembers the potential you may have forgotten in your day-to-day minutia.

I have not just one friend like this, but several, and I am so grateful to them for hanging around year after year, seeing the real me, and loving me anyway. I returned from this mini-vacation not just refreshed, but centered and grounded, too. It’s a good trip when you come home without souvenirs (totally forgot to buy them), but with a renewed outlook on life (and a related to-do list full of empowerment and passionate ambition).

Thank you, my friend. For every bit of it.

MJ Pullen

M.J. Pullen is a distracted writer and the mom of two boys in Roswell, Georgia, where she is absolutely late for something important right now. Her books include quirky romantic comedies and playful women's fiction. She blogs erratically with writing advice, random observations, and reflections on raising very loud kids and dogs. Join her Distracted Readers newsletter list for updates, free content, giveaways and more.