When I was four years old, sitting in the tree house of my first childhood home, I looked over the fence and saw a little girl of four in her own backyard playing on an old metal swing set. A tiny, strong voice, already thick with Alabama twang, called to me, “Hey! Wanna play?” From that simple question my first friendship immediately formed. Two summers later, my family moved forty-five miles away, leaving Angela and her swing set behind.
Now, as an Army Spouse, the devastation of moving occurs nearly every two years. Jay and I recently unpacked the boxes from our latest move, and I feel a nasty case of Friendless Loser Syndrome coming on. After so many moves, I still have the desire to walk out my new front door and ask the first woman I see if she wants to play. However, I have never had the courage Angela had when she was four.
So, I ask you, why is it difficult for adults to make new friends? At what age did the idea of approaching a stranger and requesting friendship become bat-shit crazy? Continue reading