Silver and Gold Friends: A Short Reunion in Alberta

Back in junior high I had to memorize a poem for class. I chose a short, memorable verse:

Make new friends

But keep the old.

One is silver,

but the other gold.

That little poem sums up a truth I keep returning to: old friends and new friends are both precious in their own ways. Recently I spent five delightful days in Alberta with a friend who clearly belongs in the “gold” category—someone I’ve known for more than twenty years.

She visited the camp where I live and work. In those early years, my partner and I were her leaders; now the distance in years feels much smaller and our roles have softened into a mutual learning and encouragement. It was wonderful to find myself on the receiving end of her wise and playful spirit.

She’s the friend who introduced me to my very first fluffy white bathrobe and a spa day—an indulgence I’ll always associate with her. Her enthusiasm also gave me the courage to take on big tasks, like cooking for fifty teenagers in the woods. Those experiences shaped a lot of what I do here and created memories that still make me smile.

I love friendships that pick up where they left off, even after months or miles apart. For us it takes exactly one hug and a heartbeat to fall back into easy conversation. That kind of comfort makes reunions feel effortless, like stepping into a warm room you already know.

My short trip was perfectly timed—right before the busy summer season at camp. It felt like a mini holiday, a chance to recharge before the chaos of summer programs begins. I stayed with her family and got to be part of their everyday rhythm: listening to cello and violin practice while reading in the living room, helping with school drop-offs and pick-ups, and attending a lively jazz concert where Kirsten sang as the lead vocalist.

We explored parts of Edmonton I’d never seen, discovering charming neighborhoods, shops, and restaurants. Over cups of hazelnut coffee we had long, restorative conversations about life, work, and the small ways we change and stay the same over the years.

In the fun of it all I forgot to take pictures—until the very last minute. Her five-year-old son snapped the one photo I have from the trip, taken right before I headed to the airport to come home.

That photo doesn’t show how windy it was that day; a few hours later a tornado actually went through the area. It felt strange to learn about that after leaving—like an intense reminder that life keeps moving and changing even when we’re caught up in ordinary, joyful moments.

While I was there I met a new friend as well, and together we began talking about a fresh adventure. It’s still unfolding, so I’ll save the details for another time—but meeting someone new amid old comforts felt like the poem in action: making new friends while keeping the old.

Short trips like this are small fuel for the soul. They remind me that friendships take many forms—some steady and seasoned, some bright and newly minted. Both kinds bring value: the golden friends who have shaped who we are, and the silver friends who bring new perspectives and energy.

Now I’m back at camp, ready for the busy season, carrying with me the laughter, music, and simple pleasures of those five days. The hug, the music, the coffee conversations—those ordinary moments are the threads that keep friendships strong, no matter how far apart we live or how much time passes between visits.

That story continues, and I’ll share more about the new adventure when the time is right. For now, I’m grateful for old friends who feel like home and for new friends who make the road ahead feel exciting.