Friendship, Lost and Found
Dear Stranger,
My best friend and I were inseparable until we were separated.
It didn’t happen all at once. Life nudged us in different directions, and then I made one careless mistake. A loose word when silence would have been wiser. I didn’t know better then. By the time I realized it, the damage was already done.
That night, I was outside. The night was filled with life. There were groups of people here and there…The chatter around me should have felt comforting, but I felt completely removed from the rest of the world, just as I was being removed from the friend who understood me better than anyone else.
My mom once told me, “These friends come and go, these things don’t last.” I didn’t agree with her then. I didn’t want to agree with her at all. But for too long, I had to live as though she was right.
My friend and I were different. Different enough that it could have broken us from the start. But it was those differences — and our stubborn similarities — that tied us together. My mom never approved. She wouldn’t even say her name, only “that girl,” or “nan,” or “dahati girl,” or “friend of yours.”
Still, our bond held. Even during the years we didn’t speak, I felt it — thin, but unbroken. So when I moved to the United States and got a call that my best friend — who I haven’t had an honest conversation with in years — wanted to send her daughter to live with me, I said yes before I could think twice. I didn’t know what I was agreeing to. I only knew this time, I wouldn’t let her down.
When we finally reconnected, we were older, softer, and maybe even stronger. She told me books had carried her through—she lost herself in them, allowing the words to heal and restore her. And as we spent time together again, I received what I once felt as a little girl: The comfort of her company. Her viewpoint. Just her random thoughts and musings. Her mind. After all those years, I had my friend back.
From one friend to another,
Elaheh (Ellie)
This letter was inspired by the book The Lion Women of Tehran by Marjan Kamali.
Some lines slipped directly from its pages:
“That night I was outside the night was filled with life. There were groups of people here and there…The chatter around me should haven a comfort, but I felt completely removed from the rest of the world” (p.165)
“these friends come and go, these things don’t last” (p.54)
“but instead that girl, or ‘nan’ or ‘dahati girl’ or ‘friend of yours’”
“The comfort of her company. Her viewpoint. Just her random thoughts and musings. Her mind” (p.286)
Short Content Brew
Not every story brews the same. This one is a spiced read with notes of sweetness and ache — a friendship that endures beyond silence, distance, and disapproval.
The Cup We’d Share
Consider this a moment to sit down with Ellie over a steaming cup of tea. The Authenticitea Barista (a character from my upcoming book, A Cup of Authenticitea) would pour something to match her spirit: a blend for bonds that never truly break, a taste both nostalgic and restorative, steeped in forgiveness.
A Sip of Return
Tea Blend: Cardamom Black + Rose
Mood Pairing: For moments of reconciliation, when love and memory outlast the years.
Flavor Note: Bold, floral, and warm — a reminder that roots can stretch across time and continents.
Reflection: Who is a friend you’ve lost touch with, yet still feel tethered to in spirit? What might it take to reach across that distance?
Why This Letter?
Ellie’s story from The Lion Women of Tehran stayed with me because it shows how friendship isn’t always neat or easy. Sometimes we drift apart, sometimes we’re pulled apart. And yet, even through silence and distance, the bond can remain.
It’s why I let this letter slip from the pages — to remind us that some connections don’t disappear, even when life makes us think they have. They bend, they wait, and sometimes, when the timing is right, they return to us softer and stronger than before.
So tell me: have you ever had a friendship you thought was gone, only to discover it still lived quietly inside you? Hit reply and spill the tea — you know I love hearing from you.
~ ☕ ~
That’s the sip I’ll leave you with today. Thanks for reading — until the next page.
