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The Gift of Friendship How To Make It Keep on Giving

When I was a child, my friendships followed a rhythm, a predictable pattern. Every weekday afternoon I hurried home, shed my Catholic school uniform, threw on my patch-pocket jeans and careened out of the house to meet my neighborhood at one of our secret, kids-only places.

We spent hours together in the basement of an apartment complex in the north Bronx, all screeches and giggles, pretending to run from a monster rumored to be hiding there.

Other days, we idled away hours at the swing in the woods by the Hudson River, sailing over the treetops together on the well-worn rope. When we grew older, and more rebellious, we huddled together in the schoolyard, sharing gossip, secrets and cigarettes.