Seasons & the Friends Who Hold Your Frequency

Another year, another harvest. Not just the change of the leaves or the crisp air, but the boxes that arrive on our doorstep: late-season fruits, a jar of homemade jam, a care package. And every single time, we stop. Because this isn't just about sharing a bounty; it's about the unspoken contract of a friendship that has seen more seasons than a network TV show.

We talk a lot about "vibes" these days. Are we vibing? Do they match my vibe? That's a first date, not a lifetime. The people we’re talking about—the ones who’ve been around since the flip-phone days—don’t just vibe. They’re each other’s frequency.

This is not just a random concept. Science is on our side. Researchers call it interpersonal synchrony. It's less “woo-woo” and more “whoa.” Studies using fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) and other neurotech have shown that when good friends are engaged or sharing an experience, their brain waves and hearts literally start to align. When you feel like you're on the same wavelength as your friend, your brains may actually be firing in similar patterns. This synchronization helps us communicate more smoothly and creates stronger emotional bonds. Like not seeing each other for a while but connecting instantly as if no time has passed. A good friendship isn't just a vibe. It's a sustained, synchronized, organic system. We've weathered a lot together. The really hard stuff, the kind that leaves you breathless and changes you. The losses that make the world stop spinning. But also: the adventures. Chasing sunsets in foreign countries, discovering hole-in-the-wall restaurants that become our places, sharing plates of food that feel like love itself. We've celebrated each other's triumphant wins like they were Olympic gold.

A friend for a season is lovely. A friend for every season? That's a different kind of magic. They are the people who can look at you and know, without you saying a word, whether you need a shot of tequila, real talk, or just a quiet, grounding presence. They remember the person you were and celebrate the person you've become. They show up, not just when it's convenient, but when it matters.

The Japanese have a word for this: kenzoku. It translates to "family," but not the kind you're born into. It's the family you choose, the people who understand you at a soul level, who belong to your story as much as you belong to theirs.

So, as I slice into this beautiful, slightly imperfect persimmon from our friend's childhood home, grown by her parents in their backyard, I'm reminded that some things don't need to be chased or forced. They just need to be nurtured, celebrated, and shared.

A good friendship is like that perfect harvest: organic, sustaining, and the greatest gift of all.